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Author: Locke, Rebekah E Title: The Role of Dante’s Purgatorio in the Development and Representation of Purgatory from the Early Fourteenth Century to the Council of Trent in the Sixteenth Century
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Your claim will be investigated and, where appropriate, the item in question will be removed from public view as soon as possible. The Role of Dante’s Purgatorio in the Development and Representation of Purgatory from the Early Fourteenth Century to the Council of Trent in the Sixteenth Century
Rebekah Ellen Locke
A dissertation submitted to the University of Bristol in accordance with the requirements for award of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty of Arts. School of Modern Languages, August 2020.
Word Count: 77 606
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Abstract
This thesis studies the development of the doctrine of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. Specifically, it considers the responses to Dante’s Purgatorio in literary and visual texts, as this work is considered to be the first example of an independent and hopeful realm of Purgatory. My comparative and interdisciplinary analysis seeks to address the lack of critical attention given to literary and artistic representations of Purgatory in the period following Dante’s landmark poem. The thesis is divided into four chapters which focus on Dante’s reception in different literary and visual texts. The first chapter examines vernacular commentaries and manuscript illuminations of Dante’s Purgatorio. The second and third chapters analyse visual depictions of Purgatory in the medieval and early modern periods, focusing on frescoes and altarpieces respectively. The final chapter examines the treatment of Purgatory in Federico Frezzi’s Il Quadriregio (1394-1403). Each chapter considers the reception of both the geography and theology of Dante’s Purgatorio, analysing the themes of landscape, transformation, punishment and prayer. My findings suggest that, despite its innovation and extensive transmission, Purgatorio has a limited influence upon subsequent literary and visual depictions of the realm. Indeed, in addition to Dantean influence, there is evidence that the medieval visionary tradition, the writings of theologians and hagiography play a significant role in the developing representation of Purgatory. This research therefore challenges the critical conception of Dante’s middle realm as an exceptional culmination of previous traditions that transformed the later portrayal of Purgatory. By analysing a range of different media, this thesis not only sheds new light on the reception of Dante’s Purgatorio but also provides a more detailed account of how the doctrine of Purgatory was perceived, transmitted and developed in the Italian peninsula at this time.
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Acknowledgements
I would firstly like to thank my supervisors, Dr Tristan Kay and Dr Rhiannon Daniels, for supporting me throughout this project with detailed insight and advice – thank you both. My thanks also go to the South West and Wales Doctoral Training Partnership for making this research possible.
I am grateful to the Centre for Medieval Studies at Bristol for showing me the value of interdisciplinary research, whilst also providing a welcoming research community and allowing me to gain experience in a variety of areas. Thank you to fellow medievalists Steve, Eddy, Alex and Dan for all the fun conferences, as well as Ed, Teresa and Hatsuko for all your advice. Thanks also to Marta for helping with my research trip and conference planning, it was great to work alongside you.
My thanks also go to Professor Matthew Brown for helpful training and advice at the start of my PhD and to the linguists I met during these sessions: special thanks to Sina and Jade for your support and the book group. Thanks also to Megan, for all our chats with tea and cake.
I would also like to thank the Library Support Team, the University Disability Services and my mentor Claire for helping me through a difficult time and enabling me to finish my PhD.
To my music friends, especially Gareth, Anna, Alasdair, Diego and Tim, thank you for providing much needed distraction and laughs. Thank you, Eleanor, Lucie and Maddy, for always being there for me, for reminding me that there is life beyond the PhD, and for all the laughter and happy visits. I would especially like to thank my family, who have been a source of constant support and encouragement throughout this process. And finally, thank you George for everything, I would not have made it without you.
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Author’s declaration
I declare that the work in this dissertation was carried out in accordance with the requirements of the University's Regulations and Code of Practice for Research Degree Programmes and that it has not been submitted for any other academic award. Except where indicated by specific reference in the text, the work is the candidate's own work. Work done in collaboration with, or with the assistance of, others, is indicated as such. Any views expressed in the dissertation are those of the author.
SIGNED:...... DATE:......
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Table of Contents
List of Figures ...... 9
Introduction ...... 15
Aims ...... 18 Timeframe and Sources ...... 20 Purgatory before Dante: Doctrinal and Popular Origins ...... 22 Early Theologians and the Beginnings of Purgatory ...... 22 The Medieval Period: Locating Purgatory ...... 24 The Greeks and the Latins...... 26 The Second Council of Lyons ...... 29 Dante’s Purgatorio ...... 30 Purgatory in Early Modern Doctrine ...... 33 The Council of Ferrara-Florence (1438-39) ...... 33 The Reformation ...... 36 The Council of Trent (1545-63) ...... 38 Critical Approaches to the Study of Purgatory ...... 40 Critical Approaches to the Reception of Dante’s Commedia ...... 44 Methodology ...... 46 Transmission of the Commedia ...... 46 Source Studies vs. Intertextuality ...... 50 Positive influence ...... 53 A text-to-text approach to reception ...... 54 Explicit and Implicit Acts of Intertextuality ...... 57 Chapter Outline ...... 61
Chapter One: Textual and Visual Commentary on Dante’s Purgatorio ...... 63
The Response of the Early Vernacular Commentaries (1322-1568) to Dante’s Purgatorio ...... 63
Dantean Innovation (Introductions to Inferno and Purgatorio; Purg., I. 1-31,
5 109-36) ...... 65
Reactions to Cato (Purg., I. 31-108) ...... 69
Reactions to Manfred (Purg., III. 103-45) ...... 72 Manuscript Miniatures of Purgatorio ...... 75 Patrons and Illuminators ...... 78 Geography of Purgatorio: Entrances and Exits ...... 80 The Exit from Hell ...... 81 Arrival in Ante-Purgatory ...... 85 The Gates of Purgatory ...... 94 Leaving Purgatory: Fire and Water ...... 98 Cato and Manfred ...... 101 Conclusion ...... 107
Chapter Two: Visual Depictions of Purgatory in Frescoes from the Italian peninsula ...... 109
Viewers and Patrons ...... 109 Frescoes ...... 116 Critical Context ...... 121 Maso di Banco, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence ...... 123 Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi ...... 132 Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico...... 143 Bartolomeo di Tommaso, Purgatory, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni ...... 157 Conclusion ...... 164
Chapter Three: Visual Depictions of Purgatory in Altarpieces from the Italian peninsula ...... 167
Critical Context ...... 169 Altarpieces ...... 173
6 Cenni di Francesco, Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles ...... 173 Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1412, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York ...... 181 Giovanni di Paolo (c. 1403- c. 1482), Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 185 Francesco Botticini, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1475-76, tempera on wood, 228.6 × 377.2cm, National Gallery, London...... 190 Conclusion ...... 204
Chapter Four: A Vernacular Literary Purgatory: Frezzi’s Quadriregio ...... 207
Historical Context...... 208 Circulation...... 209 Dantean influence upon poesia allegorico-didattica ...... 213 Frezzi’s engagement with Dante ...... 215 Purgatory within the structure of the Quadriregio ...... 217 Prayer ...... 220 The Prayers of Souls in Purgatory ...... 220 The Function of Prayers for the Dead ...... 222 i. The Efficacy of Prayer ...... 222 ii. Requests for Prayers ...... 223 iii. The Late-Repentant ...... 225 Landscape...... 226 Purgatory as a Transitional Space ...... 228 An Infernalized Dantean Mountain ...... 231 The Earthly Paradise ...... 233 Transformation ...... 236 Transformation of the Souls ...... 236 i. The Progression of Souls ...... 236 ii. Joyful Suffering ...... 238
7 iii. Punishment of the Seven Deadly Sins ...... 240 Transformation of the Protagonist ...... 242 Conclusion ...... 247
Conclusion ...... 250
Bibliography ...... 256
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List of Figures
Chapter One Figure 1. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 61v...... 82
Figure 2. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 54...... 83
Figure 3. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 62v...... 84
Figure 4. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 63r...... 85
Figure 5. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 65r...... 86
Figure 6. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 65v...... 87
Figure 7. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 7v...... 87
Figure 8. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 59...... 88
Figure 9. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 5 ...... 89
Figure 10. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 65r ...... 90
Figure 11. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 68r...... 91
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Figure 12. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 6r ...... 91
Figure 13. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79r...... 94
Figure 14. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79v...... 95
Figure 15. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 74...... 96
Figure 16. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 84r...... 96
Figure 17. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 112r...... 98
Figure 18. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 126r...... 99
Figure 19. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 111...... 99
Figure 20. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 112...... 100
Figure 21. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 113v...... 100
Figure 22. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 63r ...... 102
Figure 23. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 57...... 102
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Figure 24. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 60...... 103
Figure 25. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 68r...... 104
Figure 26. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 67v...... 105
Figure 27. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 62...... 106
Figure 28. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 63...... 106
Chapter Two Figure 29. Left: Luca Signorelli, c. 1499-1504, fresco, Cappella Nuova, Orvieto Cathedral, Orvieto. Top: The Blessed in Paradise. Bottom: Portraits of Dante and Virgil with eleven surrounding scenes from Purgatorio...... 119
Figure 30. Right: Luca Signorelli, c. 1499-1504, fresco, Cappella Nuova, Orvieto Cathedral, Orvieto, detail: scenes from Purgatorio ...... 119
Figure 31. Domenico di Michelino, La commedia illumina Firenze, 1456, fresco, Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence ...... 120
Figure 32. Maso di Banco, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence ...... 124
Figure 33. Maso di Banco, Pope Sylvester Baptizes Emperor Constantine, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence ...... 127
Figure 34. Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi ...... 133
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Figure 35. Main apse. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico ...... 143
Figure 36. Left wall. Top: Nativity. Bottom: The Life of St. Michael the Archangel. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico ...... 144
Figure 37. Right wall. Top: Adoration of the Magi. Bottom: Allegory of the Afterlife. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico ...... 144
Figure 38. Right wall. Bottom, detail: Allegory of the Afterlife. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico ...... 146
Figure 39. Madonna del Purgatorio, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena ...... 153
Figure 40. Giudizio universale, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena ...... 154
Figure 41. Giudizio universale, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena ...... 154
Figure 42. Giudizio universale, detail: Hell, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena ...... 154
Figure 43. Madonna del Purgatorio, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena, detail: the Madonna ...... 155
Figure 44. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico, detail: the Madonna ...... 155
Figure 45. Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi, detail: the Madonna ...... 155
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Figure 46. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, Purgatory, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. Purgatory...... 158
Figure 47. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. East Wall. Bottom: Purgatory, Top Left: Souls entering Paradise, Top Right: The Harrowing of Hell ...... 159
Figure 48. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. West Wall: Hell...... 160
Figure 49. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. South Wall. The Last Judgement, Christ in Glory, and Paradise...... 160
Figure 50. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. Left: Souls entering Paradise, Right: The Harrowing of Hell...... 162
Chapter Three Figure 51. Left: Cenni di Francesco, Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles...... 174
Figure 52. Right: detail of predella panel, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory ...... 174
Figure 53. Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1412, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York ...... 182
Figure 54. Giovanni di Paolo, Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante, (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 186
Figure 55. Giovanni di Paolo, Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante, (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena, detail: Purgatory on the left, St Michael the Archangel in the centre and Hell on the right...... 188
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Figure 56. Francesco Botticini, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1475-76, tempera on wood, 228.6 × 377.2cm, National Gallery, London...... 191
Figure 57. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Giovanni di Paolo, c. 1450), fol. 147 ...... 193
Figure 58. Domenico di Michelino, La commedia illumina Firenze, 1465, fresco, Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence ...... 193
Figure 59. Bartolomeo Bulgarini, Madonna Assunta in cielo da un coro di Angeli, fourteenth century, panel painting, 205 × 112cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 198
Figure 60. Giovanni di Paolo, La Pala di Staggia, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, 199 × 210 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 199
Figure 61. Sano di Pietro, Assunzione della Vergine, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, 71.7 × 53 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 200
Figure 62. Sano di Pietro, Polittico dell’Assunta, 1479, tempera on panel, 242 × 268 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena ...... 200
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Introduction
Roman Catholic doctrine today confirms the existence of Purgatory as a state of purification for souls in the afterlife who will eventually enter Heaven. The most recent definition of Purgatory is found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, implemented by Pope John Paul II in 1992, which describes Purgatory as the ‘final purification of the elect’ and affirms the existence of a ‘purifying fire’ before the Last Judgment for ‘certain lesser faults’ (1031).1 The Catechism emphasises that this fire ‘is entirely different from the punishment of the damned’ (1031). In addition, it is underlined that those who enter Purgatory due to being ‘imperfectly purified’ are ‘assured of their eternal salvation’ (1030). There is consequently no doubt that all the souls in Purgatory are saved and, once purified, will enter Heaven. In the medieval and early modern periods, by contrast, Purgatory was often indistinguishable from the realm of Hell, both in terms of its physical environment and spiritual purpose. An initial emphasis on the punitive aspects of Purgatory gradually gave way to a greater focus on the purifying nature of purgation.2 This transition is already evident in Dante Alighieri’s fourteenth-century poem, the Commedia, which depicts the realm of Purgatory in its second cantica, Purgatorio. Dante presents Purgatory as a separate realm of transformation that purifies souls and facilitates entry to Heaven. However, although elements of Dante’s hopeful vision of Purgatory appear to characterise modern theological definitions of the realm, Purgatory remained an ambiguous concept in theological writing and cultural representations in the centuries preceding and immediately following the composition of Dante’s poem. The evolution of Purgatory, from a purely punitive doctrine to a transformative one, was thus not a strictly linear process, as Purgatory’s links with Hell were not simply severed in order for the realm to arrive at its current association with Paradise. Instead, previous understandings and representations of Purgatory coexisted with new definitions. There is little evidence for Purgatory in Scripture and this is one of the main factors that has contributed to its ambivalent position in the afterlife. Theologians in the Middle
1 Catechism of the Catholic Church (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1994), p. 235. The statement on Purgatory can be found in Part One: The Profession of Faith, Section Two: The Profession of the Christian Faith, Chapter Three: I Believe in the Holy Spirit, Article 12: ‘I Believe in Life Everlasting’, III The Final Purification, or Purgatory. Further references to this Catechism are given after quotations in the text. 2 See Travis Dumsday, ‘Purgatory’, in Philosophy Compass, 9 (2014), 732-40 (p. 733); and Aidan Nichols, Rome and the Eastern Churches: A Study in Schism (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992), p. 258. This focus upon souls growing in virtue whilst in Purgatory contrasts against the definition of the realm in the old Catholic Encyclopedia (1913), which emphasized the punitive nature of Purgatory and the necessity for the soul to pay the price for venial sins.
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Ages referred to the following biblical passages when discussing Purgatory: I Corinthians
3. 11-15, II Maccabees 12. 41-46, Matthew 12. 31-32 and Luke 16. 19-26.3 These passages were believed to suggest not only that sins could be atoned for in the afterlife, but also that prayers for the dead were effective, that punishment after death would be proportionate to the sin committed and that purgation involved fire. However, in the Bible there are no references to Purgatory by name or as a distinct geographical location, as there are for Hell and Paradise, and so there is little textual proof to support the links made to purgation in the above scriptural passages. The lack of biblical evidence for the existence of Purgatory has meant that many social, cultural, historical and theological influences have instead helped to shape the concept of Purgatory that exists today in Catholic doctrine. In the medieval and early modern periods, for example, Purgatory was affirmed as a doctrine in the Catholic Church mainly due to political necessity, rather than convincing theological evidence. As we shall see, conciliar decisions concerning Purgatory occurred in response to opposition from the Greek Orthodox Church, Protestant Reformers, or even certain Catholics who were reluctant to accept this realm due to the lack of biblical evidence supporting it. While it seems that ‘political manoeuvring shaped doctrinal definitions’ in this period, the biblical uncertainty surrounding Purgatory still encouraged debate.4 Medieval theologians questioned the nature of purgation, discussing who should be subject to purgatorial punishment and for which sins. It was generally acknowledged that minor sins, also known as venial sins, did not lead to damnation and so could be purified in Purgatory, whilst mortal sins were punished in Hell.5 The question of whether souls could be punished by fire was often considered, as well as the length of punishment and whether prayers for the dead could reduce the time spent by souls in this middle realm. The lack of doctrinal stability at this time, however, meant that purgatorial
3 This paragraph is informed by Gavin D’Costa, ‘The Descent into Hell as a Solution for the Problem of the Fate of Unevangelized Non-Christians: Balthasar’s Hell, the Limbo of the Fathers and Purgatory’, International Journal of Systematic Theology 11 (2009)
16 punishments were often hard to distinguish from those in Hell. Furthermore, the works of scholastic theologians, as well as popular medieval vision literature, did not designate a specific location for the process of purgation, which could occur either on Earth before death, in the afterlife immediately after death or at the Last Judgment. The location of Purgatory, and especially the issue of whether it should be linked more closely with Hell or Heaven, was thus often debated in the medieval period. This demonstrates the ambiguity surrounding the location and spiritual purpose of Purgatory during its early development. Many of these important issues and disputes continue to appear in contemporary theological discussions of Purgatory. For example, the uncertainty surrounding the type of sin purged in Purgatory and the length of punishment required is left unresolved by the most recent Catechism. The unspecified ‘lesser faults’ (1031) are simply said to be purified by fire.6 While other types of purgatorial punishment are not discussed, the presence of fire is therefore affirmed by the Catholic Church. Despite this, the existence and function of fire in Purgatory are still disputed by modern theologians, thereby demonstrating the diminished role of punishment in recent theological understandings of purgatorial doctrine.7 Moreover, the location and topography of Purgatory are not examined in the Catechism, suggesting that the realm may no longer be defined as a physical place but rather as a spiritual state of being. In the context of such ambiguous treatment of the doctrine by the Church, Dante’s distinct and detailed representation of Purgatory appears to offer exceptional clarity and, perhaps as a consequence of this, theologians in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries have often cited Dante’s more coherent concept of Purgatory when justifying their arguments.8 It is therefore surprising that Dante’s Purgatorio, for all its coherence and detail, does not appear to be quite as influential for theological conceptions of Purgatory in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. This might have been because Dante was a lay figure and thus not considered a reliable authority on theological matters. While it may not have impacted initial doctrinal
6 The ‘lesser faults’ of the Catechism contrast with Dante’s Purgatorio where Manfred states: ‘Orribil furon li peccati miei’ (Purg., III. 121). 7 Nichols, p. 258. For a rejection of fiery purgatorial punishment, see Georges Florovsky, ‘The Last Things and the Last Events’, in The Collected Works of Georges Florovsky, 14 vols (Belmont, MA: Nordland Publishing Company, 1972-89), III (1976), 243-65. 8 See, for example, Jerry L. Walls, Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012),
17 definitions, the unprecedented tangibility of Dante’s Purgatorio begs the question, to what extent did this cantica influence later representations of Purgatory beyond the theological realm?
Aims This thesis examines the development of the doctrine of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. It employs a comparative and interdisciplinary approach, analysing diverse literary and visual sources, many of which have rarely been studied individually, let alone compared together in the context of the evolution of Purgatory. In medieval and early modern Italian studies, the concept of Purgatory has been examined predominantly in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio. As we shall see later in this introduction, there has been some analysis of the reception of Purgatorio in different media, but this cantica is usually examined in the context of literary studies. There have also been a few critical studies which consider the wider visual representation of Purgatory in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, although these have usually been conducted from an art historical viewpoint and have focused on French or Spanish artworks. This thesis therefore seeks to address the lack of critical attention given to literary and artistic representations of Purgatory in an Italian context by questioning what Dante’s poem, alongside other Italian literary and visual sources, can tell us about the reception and evolution of this doctrine. My study begins with Dante’s Purgatorio and considers how it was received in later literature and art. In so doing, this thesis diverges from the prevalent critical tendency to explore preceding traditions as stages in a progressive journey towards Dante’s Commedia, which is thus positioned as a concluding event. Dante scholars have long recognised the poet’s skill in reconciling numerous diverse sources in his Commedia and, consequently, many literary studies represent Dante’s powerfully synthetic poem as the pinnacle of preceding traditions.9 Broader historical studies concerning Purgatory, meanwhile, also implicitly seem to employ a teleological approach towards the Commedia. Eileen Gardiner suggests, for example, that the medieval visionary tradition, which played an important role for the initial development of Purgatory, inevitably
9 See, for example, Giuseppe Ledda, ‘Dante e la tradizione delle visioni medievali’, Lettere classensi, 37 (2008), 119-42; Manuele Gragnolati, Experiencing the Afterlife: Soul and Body in Dante and Medieval Culture (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005); and Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Dante’s Biblical Linguistics’, Lectura Dantis, 5 (1989), 105-43.
18 culminates with Dante’s poem.10 Historian Jacques Le Goff, meanwhile, finishes his seminal work, The Birth of Purgatory, by arguing that Dante’s poem was ‘the sublime product of a lengthy gestation’, which synthesized previous contrasting ideas concerning Purgatory in order to establish a unique and enduring conception of this realm.11 These studies demonstrate that although Dante’s poem has proved an important stimulus for critical discussions of Purgatory in the medieval period, Purgatorio has rarely been considered as part of a continuum which reaches beyond Dante. This thesis, by contrast, does not view Purgatorio simply as the exceptional culmination of a literary or theological tradition, but as an influential part of the development of the doctrine of Purgatory extending into the early modern period. I therefore offer an alternative to previous teleological approaches to the Commedia by measuring the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio within the broader theological context of purgatorial doctrine. Although my study will recognise the significant impact that Purgatorio had upon later writers and artists, it will call into question the idea that Dante’s second cantica effectively established the shape of Purgatory, as is suggested in the critical studies above. This will not only challenge how Dante’s poem has been perceived by critics, but also how the poet himself viewed the Commedia, as Dante presented his poem as one which rectified preceding traditions. I include Dante in this study, then, in order to contend that, although Purgatorio is an important literary source with many unique aspects, it does not permanently transform the shape of Purgatory, which remains fluid in the following centuries. This thesis therefore considers the extent to which the doctrine of Purgatory, manifested in Dante’s Purgatorio, influences later representations of the realm and what this can tell us more broadly about the concept of Purgatory, which lacked doctrinal stability in this period. I aim to assess aspects of both the critical and visual reception of Dante’s Purgatorio, as well as its poetic influence. I will draw upon reception studies, text-image relations and intertextuality as I compare and evaluate literary and artistic responses to this work. My interdisciplinary methodology will combine literary criticism, art historical and historical methods to examine varied primary sources including
10 See Eileen Gardiner, ‘Visions and Journeys’, in Dante in Context, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Lino Pertile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 341-53. For the argument that Dante’s Commedia should be considered as separate from the medieval visionary tradition, see Teodolinda Barolini, ‘“Why did Dante write the Commedia?” or the Vision Thing’, Dante Studies with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, 111 (1993), 1-8. 11 Le Goff, p. 334.
19 commentaries, manuscript illuminations, altarpieces, frescoes, prose and poetical compositions. This thesis consequently aims to make a significant contribution to our understanding of the reception of Dante’s most influential work and the development of the doctrine of Purgatory, as well as the relationship between art, literature and theology in the late medieval and early modern periods. In the remaining sections of this introduction, I will introduce the sources to be analysed in subsequent chapters, before going on to provide a detailed summary of the theological context for Purgatory in the medieval and early modern periods. I will then outline some existing critical approaches to the study of Purgatory and the reception of Dante’s Commedia. I will finish by setting out my methodology and chapter outlines.
Timeframe and Sources I will analyse texts and images in different media which date from the composition of the Commedia in the early fourteenth century to the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century. This is because, as we shall see, there is a significant gap in scholarship concerning the impact of Dante’s Purgatorio on subsequent conceptions and representations of Purgatory. Given that extant representations of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula are scarce, this thesis employs a broad timeframe which allows it to encompass a significant range of sources. My study ends in the sixteenth century at the Council of Trent (1545- 63) as this was the point when Purgatory was officially accepted by the Church as an article of faith. This event signals a new stage in the development of Purgatory, with diverse implications for the role of art and literature in the dissemination of the doctrine, and thus forms a natural endpoint. This thesis is not an exhaustive study of the representation of Purgatory in this period. I have instead chosen to analyse the interrelationship between Dante’s Purgatorio and representations of Purgatory in a selection of diverse and rarely studied sources. I will firstly look at commentaries to the Commedia and manuscript miniatures of this poem, which have been selected for examination because they were produced across a range of time periods in different areas of the Italian peninsula. This diversity in date and origin allows for a broader consideration of the developing representation of Dante’s Purgatorio. The commentaries to the Commedia I have selected date from 1322 to 1568 and include Jacopo Alighieri (1322), Jacopo della Lana (1324-28), L’Ottimo Commento (1333), Chiose cagliaritane (1370[?]), Francesco da Buti (1385-95), Chiose Vernon (1390?), Anonimo Fiorentino (1400?), Cristoforo Landino (1481), Giovan Battista Gelli
20
(1541-63), Trifon Gabriele (1525-41), Alessandro Vellutello (1544) and Bernardino Daniello (1547-68). The commentaries will be compared with three illuminated manuscripts from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries: MS Egerton 943, MS Holkham misc. 48 and Yates Thompson MS 36. There are around 60 existing fourteenth- and fifteenth-century illuminated manuscripts of the Commedia that include miniatures of scenes throughout the poem and the above manuscripts were selected as they are three of the most illuminated overall.12 I chose to examine three manuscripts as the small number allows for a more detailed comparative analysis. In my study, I will treat manuscript miniatures as a visual mode of commentary. I will therefore consider the extent to which both commentaries and manuscript miniatures respond to the innovations of Dante’s realm of Purgatory. This thesis also considers visual depictions of Purgatory that would have been approved by religious authorities for display in churches. These artworks would have been viewed by people from different levels of society, as churchgoing would have been a part of everyday life for the majority of the population. While access to manuscripts was more restricted, it is likely that local communities would have been familiar with the frescoes and altarpieces located in their churches. In contrast to the numerous commentaries and manuscript miniatures which offer representations of Purgatorio, however, there are very few surviving frescoes and altarpieces from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries that depict Purgatory in the Italian peninsula. I have therefore chosen to study the most complete representations of Purgatory that I could find. These frescoes and altarpieces originate from different time periods and are predominantly from Tuscany and Umbria, in the centre of the Italian peninsula. They include a tomb fresco (c. 1330s) by Maso di Banco in the Santa Croce in Florence, Tuscany; Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio’s fresco, dating from c. 1346-1349 in the Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo in Todi, Umbria; Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi’s fresco (1368) in the Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo in Paganico, Tuscany; a fresco by Bartolomeo di Tommaso, dating from c. 1445-50 in the Cappella Paradisi of the Chiesa di San Francesco at Terni, Umbria; a predella panel from the Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints (c. 1390s) by Cenni di Francesco, originally located in the Gianfigliazzi chapel of Santa Trinita in Florence, Tuscany; a predella panel of Saint
12 Rachel Owen, ‘Dante’s Reception by 14th and 15th Century Illustrators of the Commedia’, in Reading Medieval Studies, 27 (2001), 163-225 (p. 163).
21
Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory (c. 1412) by Lorenzo di Niccolò, whose original location remains unknown; the Cristo paziente e Cristo tronfante (c. 1420s- 1430s) by Giovanni di Paolo, originally housed in the church of San Nicolò al Carmine in Siena, Tuscany; and The Assumption of the Virgin (1475-76) by Francesco Botticini, originally housed in the church of San Pier Maggiore in Florence, Tuscany. Although some of these artworks have been examined in art-historical studies, this thesis offers a more comparative approach by considering them not only in relation to manuscript miniatures and commentaries, but also to a literary representation of Purgatory in Federico Frezzi’s Quadriregio (1394-1403). This work has been selected as it describes the journey of a protagonist and his numerous guides through four realms of the afterlife, including a purgatorial sphere. It is an example of vernacular literature that has rarely been studied, especially in relation to the concept of Purgatory. Moreover, Frezzi’s engagement with Dante has not often been taken into consideration, as there is no existing external evidence to show that he read or had access to the Commedia. This diverse body of source material therefore spans different media, time periods and locations within the Italian peninsula.
Purgatory before Dante: Doctrinal and Popular Origins I will now outline the theological context for Dante’s Purgatorio and the subsequent literary and visual texts I examine. I have chosen to examine specific works, as well as political and religious events, such as ecumenical councils, that have direct relevance for the formation of Purgatory. I will discuss how Purgatory was originally defined by theologians in the third to sixth centuries, before going on to consider the development of this realm in medieval and early modern doctrine. This will enable me to examine Dante’s innovative engagement with the doctrine of Purgatory, whilst also allowing for detailed comparisons in later chapters between developing theological, literary and artistic conceptualizations of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.
Early Theologians and the Beginnings of Purgatory In the third century AD, the Greek Fathers Clement of Alexandria and Origen were the first to suggest that the soul could be purged after death in a purifying fire.13 Clement of
13 Le Goff, pp. 52-55.
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Alexandria proposed two categories of sinners undergoing punishments that were either educational or punitive, thereby promoting the idea that punishment after death could be connected to education and ultimately salvation. Origen believed that all men, including the righteous, would be tried by fire at the Last Judgment.14 He also believed that no sinner was so wicked that they could not ultimately be purified and saved and this led to accusations of heresy against him. The characteristics that would later come to be associated with Purgatory, such as repentance and purification, were initially linked to Hell in the writings of these early Greek theologians.15 The Second Council of Constantinople, held between 5 May and 7 June 553, listed Origen amongst the heretics who had been excommunicated or anathematised by the Greek and Latin Churches and this inspired a widespread reaction against his ideas.16 Aidan Nichols suggests that one of the reasons the Byzantine Church never subsequently developed the doctrine of Purgatory was because it feared that the doctrine might support and encourage the return of Origenism, and especially Origen’s idea that Hell and its suffering was not eternal.17 The Greek Church therefore prayed for the dead but did not describe the nature of their condition in the afterlife.18 In the fifth and sixth centuries, the idea of the soul being purged in purifying fire after death was further elaborated upon by Augustine, Caesarius of Arles and Gregory the Great.19 Augustine specifies four categories of soul in the afterlife: the damned, the not altogether wicked, the not altogether good and the righteous, thereby introducing an intermediary status for some souls. However, although there were four categories of souls, the damned and the not altogether wicked were often grouped together, as were the not altogether good and the righteous, thereby encouraging a binary division of the afterlife. Augustine describes an everlasting fire for the damned and a purgatorial fire, which could be real in the afterlife but could also be moral in the form of earthly tribulations. Purgatorial punishment could therefore be endured in the afterlife or on
14 Le Goff, p. 55. 15 Nichols, p. 256. 16 On the anathema of Origen, see John Meyendorff, ‘Justinian, the Empire and the Church’, Dumbarton Oak Papers, 22 (1968), 43-60 (p. 56),
23
Earth, although according to Augustine its purifying effects in either realm only work on lesser sins, which he does not list. Augustine also underlines the temporary nature of these punishments, which will end at the Last Judgment when the souls in purgatorial fire will finally be able to enter Heaven. Augustine therefore places his fire between death and resurrection. In contrast, although Caesarius of Arles specifies which minor sins can be purged, he believes they are simply punished in the fire of the Last Judgement. Although they disagree about when purgatorial punishment takes place, both Augustine and Caesarius contribute to the somewhat infernal image of Purgatory as a fearful state of suffering. Gregory the Great gives further details concerning the geography of the afterlife, specifically with his idea of an upper Hell where the righteous souls who died before Christ’s coming rest peacefully, unlike the wicked who are punished in the lower part of Hell.20 Whilst Gregory agrees with Augustine that souls can expiate minor sins prior to the Last Judgment, he claims that this can only occur after death, although souls can return to Earth to undertake purgation where the sin was first committed. Purgatory therefore began to be associated with the earthly realm and with the punishment of minor sins, although its location remained unstated and it was not defined as a physical place.
The Medieval Period: Locating Purgatory In his fundamental study of the origins and early development of Purgatory, Jacques Le Goff maintains that it was during the eleventh and twelfth centuries that the doctrine began to be developed more thoroughly.21 At the beginning of the eleventh century, Saint Odilo of Cluny (994-1049) created All Souls Day on 2 November.22 This feast involved saying masses and giving alms in order to help the dead.23 The establishment of this day shows a concern to commemorate the dead and pray for their salvation, promoting the idea that the fate of souls can be improved by the intervention of the living and suggesting that an intermediate state in the afterlife must therefore exist.24 Meanwhile, in his Sententiae (1155-57) Bishop Peter Lombard takes the first step towards creating a third category of souls in the afterlife by placing ‘the not entirely wicked’ alongside ‘the not
20 This paragraph is informed by Le Goff, pp. 88-94. 21 Le Goff, pp. 125-27; pp. 130-36. 22 Le Goff, p. 125. 23 Owen Chadwick, The Early Reformation on the Continent (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 71. 24 Le Goff, p. 291.
24 entirely good’.25 This was an important decision as it intimated a tripartite division of the afterlife for the first time. Le Goff argues that whilst previous theological texts had referred to purgation occurring in a purgatorial fire (in igne purgatorio) which was not assigned to a specific location, the appearance of the noun purgatorium designated a distinct location for the purgation of sins.26 This noun is found in a quaestio by Odo of Ourscamp (d. 1171), On the Soul in Purgatory (De anima in Purgatorio), which was most likely published posthumously by Odo’s students who included this terminology in their revisions of his work between 1171 and 1190. As Odo does not appear to have used the term himself, Le Goff claims that the theologian Peter Comestor (d. 1178), who, like Odo, was one of Peter Lombard’s disciples, was actually one of the first to use the noun purgatorium in his sermons. Le Goff concludes that this neologism must therefore have been introduced between 1170-80, a date which I will use in this thesis, although other scholars have challenged this view.27 Le Goff suggests that Purgatory as a distinct place was firstly integrated into scholastic writing by Peter the Chanter (d. 1197) in his Summa de Sacramentis et Animae Consiliis, whilst Simon of Tournai (d. 1201), a pupil of Odo of Ourscamp, is also shown to have distinguished between purgatorium and purgatorial fire (ignis purgatorius) in his Disputationes.28 The use of the noun purgatorium suggests that Purgatory was beginning to be established as a place amongst theologians, although its location remained unknown. While Le Goff attributes the birth of the doctrine of Purgatory to the appearance of a ternary structure of the afterlife in the works of scholastic theologians and the introduction of the word purgatorium, Aron Gurevich claims that the purifying function of Purgatory was already present in medieval visionary literature, even though Purgatory did not occupy an independent realm of the afterlife in these accounts.29 The medieval visionary tradition includes many diverse texts written in prose between the sixth and thirteenth centuries which originate from England, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy and the Netherlands. These short, popular accounts often employed the same motifs to
25 Le Goff, p. 149. 26 This paragraph is informed by Le Goff, pp. 156-59. 27 For example, Nichols suggests that the word purgatorium is actually first used by Hildebert of Lavardin (1056-1135) (Nichols, p. 255). Le Goff, however, had previously disputed the attribution of writings concerning Purgatory to Hildebert of Lavardin, see pp. 154-59. 28 Le Goff, pp. 165-67. 29 Le Goff, p. 116; and Aron Gurevich, ‘Popular and Scholarly Medieval Cultural Traditions’, Journal Of Medieval History, 9 (1983), 71-90 (p. 83).
25 represent both Hell and Purgatory.30 For example, common trial motifs included passing through fire or crossing a test-bridge overseen by demons in order to establish the final destination of a soul in the afterlife.31 Although these trials can be seen to exhibit a purgatorial function, the souls of both the damned and the saved ultimately suffer the same punishments in the same geographical space. The equal treatment of the souls therefore creates doubt about their final destination in the afterlife and the exact function of their punishments. This means that Hell and Purgatory are not easily distinguished from one another in the visions and so, as in theological writings, the geographical and spiritual definition of Purgatory remained ambiguous.32 The need to locate a place of purgation beyond the grave became more urgent, however, after the Fourth Lateran Council made annual confession obligatory in 1215. This decision forced the faithful to examine their conscience on a regular basis and the focus upon individual sin heightened the sense of personal responsibility for redemption. This meant that establishing a location where purgation could be completed in the afterlife became a more pressing issue for the whole population.33
The Greeks and the Latins
30 Examples of visions which have motifs with possible purgatorial functions include the Vision of St. Paul (fourth century); the Vision of Sunniulf (563) found in The History of the Franks (Bk. 4, ch. 33) of Gregory of Tours; The Vision of Peter, The Vision of a Soldier and The Vision of Stephen in Bk 4 ch. 37 of the Dialogues of Gregory the Great (593-94); the Vision of Fursa or Furseus (633); the Vision of Barontus (678-79); the Vision of Drythelm (c. 696); the Vision of the Monk of Wenlock (c. 732-35); the Vision of Wetti (first version written in 824, second version written in 837); the Vision of Charles the Fat (885) in the Gesta regum anglorum of William of Malmesbury; the Vision of Adamnán (early tenth century); the Vision of Alberic (1111-23); the Vision of Tundal (1149); Saint Patrick’s Purgatory (c. 1179-81); the Vision of the Monk of Eynsham (1197); and the Vision of Thurkill (1206). For further information on these visions, see Eileen Gardiner, Judeo-Christian Hell Texts (Italica Press, 2007),
26
While the Greek Fathers were the first to discuss post-mortem purification by fire, the Greeks first learned about Western teaching concerning Purgatory in the 1230s.34 As we shall see, the ensuing debate between the Greek and Latin Churches became one of the principal factors that shaped Catholic definitions of Purgatory at several ecumenical councils. The first documented encounter between the two churches on the subject of Purgatory took place when George Bardanes, the Greek Metropolitan bishop of Corfu, met Bartholomew, a Franciscan friar, in the Greek Monastery Casole near Otranto in Italy.35 Their discussion about the destiny of souls in the afterlife was important because it was recorded and distributed, marking the beginning of the dispute concerning Purgatory. Following this exchange, it became apparent that the Greeks were troubled by the idea of purgatorial fire punishing those who had not completed penance for sin, especially as penance was optional in the Orthodox Church.36 While the Latins attached great importance to ‘divine justice, punishment, and satisfaction’, the Greeks emphasized the forgiveness of God, thereby dismissing ‘the Latin view that souls are punished for sins already forgiven’.37 The Greeks did envisage some form of spiritual suffering for souls with venial sins, but it was considered to be self-imposed, rather than a divinely inspired punishment ‘of material fire burning (immaterial) souls’ to satisfy sins.38 As the Latin concept of fiery purgation could be completed before the Last Judgement, the Greeks also feared there was a possibility that even the damned could be saved. Many Greek theologians consequently rejected the concept of purgatorial fire, linking Latin ideas of Purgatory with the heretical claims of Origen, who, as we have seen, previously argued that the damned could be purified by fire.39 Moreover, the Greeks claimed that the Latins were misconstruing the act of praying for the dead by suggesting that, rather than simply alleviating the suffering of souls, prayer could actually free souls from fiery punishment. This was unacceptable to the Greeks as it seemed to imply that
34 Dragos-Gabriel Mîrsanu, ‘Dawning Awareness of the Theology of Purgatory in the East: A Review of the Thirteenth Century’, Studii Theologice 4 (2008), 180-81. 35 Mîrsanu, pp. 180-81. Mîrsanu suggests that this discussion took place either in 1231 or 1236. 36 Nichols, p. 253. 37 Demetrios Bathrellos, ‘Love, Purification, and Forgiveness versus Justice, Punishment, and Satisfaction: The Debates on Purgatory and the Forgiveness of Sins at the Council of Ferrara-Florence’, The Journal of Theological Studies, 65 (2014), 78-121 (p. 78),
27 prayer could release souls from a part of Hell. We shall see that the Greeks’ refusal to accept Purgatory as a place in the afterlife delayed the official acceptance of Purgatory as a distinct realm in the Catholic Church. The conflict between the two Churches would eventually lead to the Latin doctrine of Purgatory being defined in reaction to its rejection by the Eastern Church. The first definition of Purgatory by a Pope occurred on the 6 March 1254 in an official letter (sub catholicae) from Pope Innocent IV to Cardinal Eudes of Châteauroux, his legate to the Greeks in Cyprus, in which Innocent asked the Greeks to accept his definition of Purgatory as a ‘temporary fire’ where ‘slight and minor sins, are purged’.40 In his letter the Pope does not specify if passage through purgatorial fire occurs before or after the resurrection of the dead, as this was a point on which the Catholic and Orthodox churches disagreed.41 According to Alan E. Bernstein, it was this letter by Innocent IV that made repentance the determining factor for the expiation of venial sins and which Le Goff has described as ‘the birth certificate of Purgatory as a doctrinally defined place’, thereby underlining its significance for the development of the concept of Purgatory.42 Another notable step towards the official acceptance of Purgatory arose from the Greek recapture of Constantinople in 1261. Although this was an important advance in the restoration of the Byzantine Empire, most of Greece remained under Western control, and thus, in order to protect his empire, the Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologos contacted Pope Clement IV in 1267 to discuss the possibility of a reunion between the Latin and Greek churches.43 This led to a compromise: the Profession of Faith sent by Pope Clement IV to the Emperor in 1267, which came to be known as the ‘Clementine formula’.44 This Profession proved very influential as it was adopted in the Second Council of Lyons and also reappeared at the Council of Florence in 1439.45 The ‘formula’ considers the question of Purgatory, although Clement does not mention punishment by fire, as the Greeks did not agree with this. He instead claims that repentant souls who die without completing satisfaction for their sins will ‘be purged after death, poenis
40 Le Goff, p. 284. 41 Le Goff, pp. 283-84. 42 Bernstein, IV, 209; Le Goff, p. 284. 43 Le Goff, p. 285; Nichols, p. 249. 44 Le Goff, p. 285; Nichols, p. 253. 45 The Profession of Faith made in the name of the Emperor Michael VIII at the Second Council of Lyons stated: ‘“The souls of such as, truly penitent, shall die in charity before they have satisfied by worthy fruits of penance for their faults of commission and omission are purified after death by purifying pains, and the suffrages of the living faithful, that is the sacrifices of Masses, prayers, almsgiving and other works of piety, avail to lighten penalties of this sort”’ (Gill, p. 120). See also Gill, p. 116, p. 118; and Nichols, p. 253.
28 purgatoriis seu cathartiis, “by purifying or cathartic pains”’.46 The objections of the Greeks therefore prompted the Pope to produce a carefully considered description of purgation that would be used in subsequent ecumenical councils. As we shall see, however, despite his tempered language, the Greeks would ultimately reject Clement’s ideas.
The Second Council of Lyons The Second Council of Lyons took place between 1272 and 1274 and its main purpose was to achieve a union between the Latin and Greek churches. This union was required primarily for political reasons, as Pope Gregory X wanted to assure the success of his crusade and the Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus wanted to stop an attack by Charles of Anjou.47 Nichols explains that the use of the Filioque in the Creed, the validity of papal plenitudo potestatis and the use of unleavened bread in the Eucharist were all well-known issues discussed at the Council, whereas the question of Purgatory, which was discussed alongside them, had only recently become a subject of debate between the Eastern and Western churches in the 1230s.48 Although neither the word purgatorium nor punishment by fire were mentioned in the texts of the Council, the ‘Clementine formula’ was included in an appendix of the Council’s constitution and referred to ‘purgatorial or purificatory penalties’.49 Despite the omission of the word purgatorium, the Second Council of Lyons represented ‘the first proclamation of belief in the purgatorial process, if not in Purgatory itself, as a dogma’.50 On the 16 January 1275 a union was proclaimed between the Churches with relatively little theological negotiation, due in part to the military situation.51 It appears therefore that the official acceptance of purgation in Church doctrine was motivated by external political concerns, rather than internal requests for clarity on the subject. Despite the
46 Nichols, pp. 253-54. 47 Le Goff, p. 285. 48 Nichols, p. 252. The Filioque is a Latin term meaning ‘and the Son’ that was added to the Niceno- Constantinopolitan Creed. It was contentious because the Latins believed the Spirit proceeded from the Father and the Son, while the Greeks believed the Spirit proceeded from the Father alone (Nichols, p. 195). The Roman concept of papal plenitudo potestatis was also controversial because it gave the Pope increased power and promoted the idea of the Roman Pontiff as the head of the whole church and the true successor of the Apostle Peter (Nichols, p. 248). Finally, while the Greeks used leavened bread during the Eucharist, the Latins ate unleavened bread (without yeast) as they believed the first Eucharist took place in the context of Jewish Passover (Nichols, pp. 235-37). 49 Le Goff, p. 285. 50 Le Goff, p. 286. 51 This paragraph is informed by Le Goff, p. 285; and Nichols, pp. 252-60.
29
Emperor’s support for the union, there was widespread opposition in Constantinople, especially to the Filioque, and in 1277 the Byzantine synod denounced the ‘Clementine formula’. After the death of the Emperor, Michael’s successor Andronicus II rejected the union. Thus, by 1283 the Greek Church was no longer united with Rome and would consequently never develop a formal doctrine of Purgatory. Although the union was unsuccessful, Le Goff claims that it enabled Purgatory to be consolidated in the Latin Church.
Dante’s Purgatorio By the time that Dante began the Commedia, which was likely written between 1306 and 1321, Catholic theologians had accepted that the afterlife was not simply divided into a binary structure and the Church had confirmed that purgation could take place after death.52 However, there was still uncertainty surrounding the precise physical nature of Purgatory and whether it should be considered as a place at all. There was also confusion about which sins were to be purified there, as well as the type of punishment and when it would take place. In this ambiguous context, Dante was the first to present a clearly defined, independent realm for Purgatory with its own distinct theology. Alongside his own poetic creation in Purgatorio, Dante incorporates imagery and concepts taken from medieval visionary literature and Catholic theology, associating them specifically with Purgatory, in order to give this realm an explicit purpose.53 Dante’s Purgatory is located on Earth, on a mountain surrounded by water at the antipodes of Jerusalem. It is divided into three main sections: ante-purgatory, where the excommunicate and the late-repentant wait before starting purgation; Purgatory proper, which itself is divided into ‘sette regni’ (Purg., I. 82); and the Earthly Paradise situated at the top of the mountain.54 Purgatorio also includes a ‘pre-ante-purgatory’ near Ostia where souls initially gather before being taken to the shores of Mount Purgatory.55 The
52 According to Zygmunt G. Barański, Dante started writing Inferno in 1306-7 and Purgatorio in 1308-9. Inferno was likely then revised in 1312-14 before being circulated in 1314, while Purgatorio was revised in 1314 and circulated in 1315-16. Barański suggests that Paradiso was then written between 1315–16 and 1321. See Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Genesis, Dating, and Dante’s ‘Other Works’’, in The Cambridge Companion to Dante’s ‘Commedia’, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Simon Gilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), pp. 208-28 (p. 226). 53 What follows is a concise summary of a more extensive analysis of Dante’s Purgatorio undertaken in the second chapter of my master’s thesis. See Locke, pp. 26-60. 54 All quotations from Dante’s Purgatorio are taken from Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio, trans. by Jean Hollander and Robert Hollander (New York: Anchor, 2003). 55 Robert Hollander coins the term ‘pre-ante-purgatory’, see Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 45. For an in-depth discussion of the significance of Ostia, see Locke, pp. 30-34.
30 structure of this realm suggests that souls are judged at the moment of death and that adequate repentance on Earth is required to enter Purgatory. The seven terraces on the mountain in Purgatory proper are for the purgation of the seven deadly sins: pride, envy, wrath, sloth, avarice and prodigality, gluttony, and lust. On each terrace Dante pilgrim and his guide Virgil experience the same sequence of events, starting with exemplars of the virtue opposing the sin to be purged, before seeing the punishment of the souls who committed the sin. They then interact with the sinners before reaching the exemplars of the sin. They rely on the judgement of the angel on each terrace to allow them to progress to the next one. The Earthly Paradise is located at the summit of Mount Purgatory and a wall of fire separates it from Purgatory proper. The souls therefore ascend Mount Purgatory to reach the Earthly Paradise at the summit and, once there, they are ready to enter Paradise itself. The distinct geographical layout of Purgatorio demonstrates a shift in the representation of Purgatory when compared to previous uncertainty concerning the physical nature of this realm. Dante’s clear structure facilitates an upward journey through Purgatory that is directed towards Paradise. This orientation towards the divine not only distances the realm physically from its previous association with Hell, but also distances it theologically.56 In contrast with the fixity of Hell, from which there is no hope of escape, Dante’s Purgatory is characterised by continuous physical progression and spiritual transformation. Dante’s Earthly Paradise sees a return to a prelapsarian state, implying that the souls are constantly moving towards a life in perfect union with God.57 The souls are motivated by the hope of salvation as, unlike the uncertain fate of souls in medieval visionary literature, Dante explicitly underlines that all the souls in Purgatorio will be saved.58 The organized topography of Dante’s realm enables his purgatorial theology to be clearly expressed, whereas the ambiguous structure of the afterlife in the visionary tradition blurs any distinction between the different realms. In contrast to the visionary tradition, then, the spiritual and geographical elements of Purgatorio are intertwined and together enable the soul to reach God.
56 For a more detailed consideration of how Dante’s Purgatorio is topographically and theologically innovative in relation to preceding traditions, see Locke, pp. 26-60. 57 See Teodolinda Barolini, The Undivine Comedy: Detheologizing Dante (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), p. 101. 58 For example, in Gregory the Great’s Dialogues the fate of Stephen on the test-bridge is uncertain. Whilst the bridge imagery is often considered to be purgatorial, the unknown outcome shows that Purgatory was not instinctively linked with salvation as it is with Dante. (Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner, pp. 48-50; and Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys, pp. 29-30).
31
The spiritual aim of Dante’s Purgatorio is to transform souls by redirecting their desire away from the earthly and towards the divine. This is seen when those in Purgatory are instructed not to look behind them, suggesting past desires must be abandoned.59 Unlike in the visionary tradition, where the protagonist changes lifestyle when he returns to Earth, Purgatorio focuses on the transformation that occurs in the realm itself. As Dante’s Purgatory is also a temporary realm, this emphasises that Purgatorio has an objective that will eventually be fulfilled. This sense of purpose is evidenced in the experience of punishment in this realm. Dante uses punishment that corresponds to a specific sin on each terrace of Purgatorio. This is also seen in Inferno, where Dante explicitly uses the term contrapasso to describe this process of punishment. The crucial difference is that in Purgatory the punishment has a positive, transformational purpose, which is also underlined by the inclusion of instructive exemplars on each terrace. The souls therefore undertake purgation willingly, understanding that the punishment is part of a productive process that will lead to salvation. This accentuates the idea that Dante’s realm of Purgatory is linked to Paradise, not Hell, and this transient and joyful purgatorial suffering therefore differs from the eternal punishment experienced in Inferno and the ambiguous nature of the punishment in the medieval visionary tradition. This association with Paradise is further underlined by the presence of the divine in Dante’s purgatorial realm. As well as souls who desire to reach God, Dante’s Purgatory incorporates divine song and angels, whilst also affirming the power of prayers from those on Earth to shorten the punishment of souls in Purgatory. Prayers for the dead were enshrined in Catholic doctrine at the Council of Lyons in 1274 and so this situates Dante’s Purgatorio within accepted Christian tradition of the time.60 This is also seen in Dante’s inclusion of the Sacrament of Penance, which the Church used to emphasise the role of the individual in determining his or her place in the afterlife. Despite this, however, Dante also openly criticises Church practices, such as the use of indulgences, where priests were paid to say prayers and masses for the dead, as this implied that
59 See, Purg., IX. 131-32. 60 On prayer and indulgences see Diarmaid MacCulloch, A History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years (London: Penguin Books, 2010), pp. 551-58; Bernstein, IV, 200-16; John Casey, After Lives: A Guide to Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2009), pp. 225-42; Gurevich, ‘Popular and Scholarly Medieval Cultural Traditions’, p. 77; and Herbert Paul, ‘The Roman Catholic Doctrine of Indulgences’, The Nineteenth Century and After, 49 (1901), 296-306.
32 forgiveness could be bought.61 Thus, although Dante accepts elements of Catholic doctrine concerning Purgatory, he also rejects certain practices, arguing that purgation is not a process that those on Earth can buy their way out of, but rather a necessary means of completely transforming the soul so that it can be reunited with God.62 Dante therefore reworks aspects of Christian doctrine in order to support his own theology of Purgatory. The many divine elements that permeate Dante’s Purgatory, alongside the clear structure of this realm and the transformation of souls that it facilitates, all contribute to the close association of Purgatorio with Paradise, as opposed to Hell. The topographical specificity and distinct theological purpose of Dante’s Purgatorio thus contrasts with the ambiguous and contradictory accounts of Purgatory in preceding theological and visionary traditions. As we shall see, however, for all its sophistication and innovation, Dante’s independent, tangible and hopeful realm of Purgatory does not appear to influence Church doctrine concerning the afterlife during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.
Purgatory in Early Modern Doctrine The Council of Ferrara-Florence (1438-39) After the Second Council of Lyons in 1272-74, there followed the Council of Vienne in 1311-1312 and the Council of Constance in 1414-1418, but it was only at the Council of Ferrara-Florence in 1438-39 that Purgatory was once more a subject of discussion. The question of Purgatory was consequently neglected by the Church for a considerable period between the Second Council of Lyons and the Council of Ferrara-Florence. It was during this period, in which Purgatory was not officially discussed within the Church, that Dante was developing his literary conception of the realm.63 It seems that it only became
61 On Dante’s criticism of indulgences, see Par., XXVII. 52-54 and Par., XXIX. 118-23. Dante also frequently challenges medieval theological writing. For example, medieval theologians placed the punishment of mortal sins in Hell and that of venial sins in Purgatory, and yet Dante only explicitly includes the purgation of mortal sins in Purgatorio. 62 For example, Dante demonstrates that ‘una lagrimetta’ (Purg., V. 107), a sign of genuine repentance, is enough to save Buonconte da Montefeltro at the end of his life. Conversely, his father Guido, who made an outward sign of repentance when becoming a Franciscan friar, is punished in Inferno XXVII for failing to commit wholeheartedly to a pious life. It becomes clear that, for Dante, only genuine inner change leads to salvation. 63 The plague and the devastation that it caused in Italy, particularly in 1348, also had a significant impact upon the development of theological doctrine. This outbreak led to an increased preoccupation with death, which the populace confronted daily, and fuelled the need for a realm where penance could be undertaken in the afterlife. See Chadwick, p. 70, p. 72. On the effects of the plague on the arts, see Millard Meiss, Painting in Florence and Siena after the Black Death (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1951). On the outbreak of plague during the Council of Ferrara-Florence, see Gill, pp. 125-27.
33 necessary to discuss Purgatory again at the Council of Ferrara-Florence because the Greeks once again required a union with the Latins. This meant that any disagreements between the two Churches, including the controversial topic of Purgatory, needed to be resolved. This fresh attempt at a union arose because of the advance of the Ottoman Empire, which was threatening Europe, and Constantinople in particular, by the late- fourteenth century. Despite popular opposition in Constantinople, the political situation meant that the Emperor John VIII Palaeologos needed to unite with the West for protection, and this union against the shared Turkish enemy was strongly encouraged by the Pope.64 The Council of Ferrara-Florence was therefore convened, and Purgatory was again discussed, not because of a perceived need to define purgation in more detail, but as a result of a military threat in the East. As we have seen, Greek opposition led to the rather careful definition of purgation established at the Second Council of Lyons and this is seen again at the Council of Ferrara-Florence, which reiterates the Latins’ acceptance of purgation in the afterlife while ‘remaining non-committal as to Purgatory’s imaginary content’.65 The Greeks’ reluctance to accept Purgatory as a place meant that, at a conciliar level, the Catholic description of this realm remained deliberately vague. Joseph Gill explains that there was a four-month delay before the start of the Council of Ferrara-Florence to allow time for the arrival of the western princes’ representatives.66 The main theological differences between the Greeks and the Latins were not allowed to be discussed during this time but, as Purgatory was only viewed as a minor issue of contention between the two Churches, it was agreed that it could be discussed unofficially during the four-month delay before the start of the Council.67 In this discussion, both Latins and Greeks agreed that there was an intermediate state after death, from which souls could proceed to Heaven with the help of suffrages from the living, but they continued to differ on the issue of which categories of
64 Nichols, p. 263, p. 265. 65 Le Goff, p. 357. During the Council the same four topics of the Second Council of Lyons were discussed, only more thoroughly, and the Filioque remained the main issue (Nichols, p. 266, p. 268). Nichols explains that the absence of the epiklêsis in the Latin tradition, a ‘consecratory prayer to the Holy Spirit over the bread and wine’, which takes place during the Liturgy, was also debated (Nichols, p. 266). For details on the records of this Council see Gill, pp. viii-xiii. Gill explains that the three main records for the Council of Florence are the Greek Acts or Practica, compiled by three Greek notaries, the Latin Acts by a papal protonotary, Andrew da Santa Croce, and the Memoirs written in Greek not before 1444 by Silvester Syropoulus, a deacon and official of the Great Church of Constantinople who was an active participant in the events of the Council, but whose perspective was influenced by the shame of having signed the union. 66 Gill, pp. 111-12. 67 Gill, pp. 111-12. The definition of Purgatory used by the Latins who began the discussions on the 4 June 1438 was the same as that of the Second Council of Lyons (See Gill, p. 116, p. 118 and p. 120).
34 souls benefited from these suffrages and how salvation could be gained, as we saw previously.68 While the Latins argued that only those undergoing purgation could be aided by the prayers of the living, the Greeks stated that these suffrages could help any soul in the afterlife to a certain extent.69 Robert Ombres emphasizes that the Greeks still had no definitive definition of Purgatory as they had not inherited the rich Latin theological tradition concerning this realm, which was also supported by literary works such as Dante’s Commedia.70 He stresses how the Greek belief concerning forgiveness, as well as the notion that souls only reached their final destination after the Last Judgment, the persistent fear of Origenism and the idea that ‘purgatory encouraged moral laxity amongst the living’, continued to make them reluctant to accept the doctrine.71 Unsurprisingly, the Greek synod later requested that Purgatory be removed from public discussions and it was thus only debated between a few delegates.72 Ombres underlines that in the Council’s discussion ‘the truth that the Greeks now admitted was that, “ . . . qui decedunt in caritate et non satisfecerunt penitentiis iniunctis, seu in aliquo peccato veniali, quod vadunt ad purgatorium”’ [... those who die in charity but who have not completed the required penance, or those who have died with any venial sins, will go to Purgatory (translation my own)].73 Here the noun purgatorium is used, and yet in the text of the final decree it simply mentions ‘poenis purgatoriis’, suggesting that although both Churches signed the decree of union on the 6 July 1439, thereby affirming the notion of post-mortem purgation, the Greeks were reluctant to accept Purgatory as a distinct place.74 The hesitance of the Greeks may therefore have hindered the development of the concept of Purgatory as a place in Catholic doctrine. Moreover, because of Greek opposition, and in order to facilitate a union between the Churches, the language of
68 Bathrellos, p. 78. 69 For the Greeks, prayers for the dead could slightly alleviate the pain of the wicked, as well as help those in the middle state increase their hope or reach the blessed. Prayers could also help the blessed increase in goodness, as these souls were still not considered perfect as they do not yet experience the full presence of God (Gill, p. 124). 70 Robert Ombres, ‘Latins and Greeks in Debate over Purgatory, 1230-1439’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 35 (1984), 1-14 (p. 7). 71 Ombres, p. 8, p. 10. Although the Greeks, like the Latins, believed in an individual judgement that occurred at the moment of death, they did not believe that souls experienced the full extent of their damnation or blessedness until the Last Judgement. The Greeks instead believed that the blessed wait in a restful state and the damned wait in a dark place of sorrow arising from the lack of God’s presence. The souls of those who have died with minor sins experience self-inflicted remorse or uncertainty of whether they will reach God. They can be purified by God’s love and forgiveness, not fire, but their fate is ultimately decided at the Last Judgement. See Bathrellos, pp. 88-90; and Mirsanu pp. 181-82. 72 Gill, p. 272, p. 285. 73 Ombres, p. 14. 74 Gill, p. 285; Nichols, p. 268; Ombres, p. 14. See Gill, pp. 412-15 for the Latin Decree of Union (p. 414).
35 purgatorial fire in the final decree on Purgatory had to be set aside, as had also been the case in the ‘Clementine formula’ of 1267, thereby demonstrating the significant influence that Greek beliefs had upon Catholic definitions of Purgatory.75 The union between the Latin and Greek churches was once again short-lived, following widespread opposition to the Council amongst Constantinople’s population and the defeat of the Christians by the Ottoman Empire at the Battle of Varna in 1444.76 The Ottoman Turks were able to conquer Constantinople in 1453 and the Council of Florence was formally repealed by the Greeks in 1484.77 While Purgatory was ultimately rejected by the Greeks, it continued to be affirmed by the Catholic Church. As the wording of the doctrinal definition of Purgatory at the Council of Ferrara-Florence was almost identical to the Profession of Faith used at the Second Council of Lyons, there was little development in the Church’s representation of this realm. Catholic doctrinal teachings on Purgatory therefore continued to stress its punitive function during this period.78 However, certain works by the laity on the subject of Purgatory, such as the Treatise on Purgatory by Catherine of Genoa (1447-1510), emphasized the joy of purgatorial suffering as a means of transformation that would ultimately enable the soul to enter Heaven: ‘The more rust of sin is consumed by fire, | the more the soul responds to that love, | and its joy increases’.79 The concept of joyful suffering outlined here is similar to that found in Dante’s Purgatorio and serves to distinguish Purgatory from the punishment of Hell. This suggests that although Dante’s poem did not impact the relatively cautious definitions of Purgatory put forward at a conciliar level, its approach did anticipate some theological understandings and representations of the realm.
The Reformation Although the existence of Purgatory was disputed during the Reformation (1517- c.1648), this movement played a pivotal role in assuring that Purgatory remained an established dogma of the Catholic Church at the Council of Trent (1545-1563).80 The academic Martin Luther and his supporters, both Catholic and Lutheran, originally only wanted
75 Ombres, p. 14; Gill, p. 120. 76 Nichols, p. 279. 77 Nichols, p. 279. 78 Ombres, p. 14. 79 Catherine, Saint, of Genoa, Purgation and Purgatory, The Spiritual Dialogue, trans. by Serge Hughes (London: S.P.C.K., 1979), p. 72. 80 The Reformation challenged many other Catholic beliefs and practices at this time, including prayers for the dead, the authority of the Pope and his use of indulgences.
36 reform of the existing Church, as they disagreed with its moral abuses and its corrupted interest in finance, through benefices, taxes and indulgences.81 Owen Chadwick explains that Luther wrote the Ninety-Five Theses (1517) after having read the instructions for indulgence preachers issued by Archbishop Albert.82 In his instructions, Albert claimed that if a person bought an indulgence letter then their sins would be completely remitted and there would be no further need for contrition: ‘it is not necessary to make confession, or to visit the churches and altars, but merely to procure the confessional letter’.83 Albert also claimed that monetary donations for deceased loved ones would release their souls from Purgatory, as this contribution also granted complete remission of sins.84 Luther sent a copy of the Ninety-Five Theses to Albert with an accompanying letter in which he criticized the fact that Albert was selling papal indulgences in order to pay for the rebuilding of St. Peter’s in Rome.85 Luther claimed that preachers, encouraged by Albert, were conveying ‘security and fearlessness to the people through false fables and futile promises about indulgences’.86 Luther challenged the idea that indulgences led to the remission of all punishment in Purgatory and clearly stated in his theses that indulgences could not forgive the sins of the deceased nor reduce the time spent in Purgatory: ‘They preach human doctrines who assert that as soon as the coin falls into the chest the soul flies upwards [out of purgatory]…’.87 Luther’s ideas thus directly contradicted Catholic teaching on Purgatory. Chadwick underlines that initially Luther did not deny Purgatory’s existence, instead believing it to be a more merciful realm than was often portrayed, with souls enduring mental rather than physical torment. However, Luther later refused to accept that there was any evidence for Purgatory in the Bible and he published A Recantation on Purgatory (c. 1528), emphasizing that only repentance on Earth, and not in the afterlife, could bring purification from sin.88 Prayers for the dead were therefore excluded from
81 John Morrall, ‘The Council of Trent: Its Background and Significance’, History Today, 12 (1962), 476-85 (p. 477).
37 services, as Luther rejected the torment of Purgatory and the solemn masses and vigils previously associated with death. He instead stressed the joy of the occasion as the dead would be going directly to Heaven.89 This opposition to the belief in Purgatory necessitated a more assertive defense of the realm from the Catholic Church, which is seen most clearly in discussions related to The Council of Trent.
The Council of Trent (1545-63) It was therefore against this background of the Reformation that Pope Paul III (1534- 1549) convened the Council of Trent, which took place in three periods between 1545-47, 1551-52, and 1562-63.90 Although the Council of Lyons in 1274 had produced the first dogmatic statement that purgation could occur in the afterlife and prayers could aid the dead, it was only at the Council of Trent that Purgatory was defined as a place or state where souls are purged between death and the Last Judgement.91 This significant gap implies that the Church only decided to accept Purgatory as a doctrine when it realised the political, economic and social benefits of promoting belief in this realm amongst the populace. The Church’s decision was also encouraged by the need to re-examine its position in the face of Luther’s criticisms and the development of Protestantism. The Council of Trent therefore did not establish the dogma of Purgatory because of demands for a more detailed purgatorial doctrine but rather because of opposition from the Reformers. Despite the fact that in 1547 the Council of Trent unanimously affirmed the validity of indulgences and the existence of the middle state of Purgatory, by the time the Council was due to finish in 1563 it still did not have written decrees on these subjects.92 The question of indulgences and Purgatory had been sidelined as the Council had mainly focused upon two different challenges posed by Luther: the doctrinal issue of whether salvation was granted by ‘faith alone’ rather than by ‘works’, and the need to reform ecclesiastical offices and practices.93 In order to have the decrees completed and approved in time, especially now that Pope Pius IV was extremely ill, the Council had to treat the
89 Chadwick, pp. 79-80. 90 John W. O’Malley, Trent: What happened at the Council (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2013), p. 2. The first interruption of the Council was due to an outbreak of typhus in March 1547, which meant that the Council briefly moved to Bologna. The Council was suspended again in 1552 fearing the military approach of Maurice of Saxony (Morrall, p. 481). 91 Casey, p. 226. 92 This paragraph is informed by O’Malley, pp. 240-44. 93 O’Malley, p. 12, p. 21.
38 issues of Purgatory and indulgences as reform instead of doctrine, as the process relating to the former was quicker. The written decrees were consequently quite rushed and vague. The decree concerning indulgences acknowledged their misuse, urging ‘moderation’ in granting them, but stated that those denying the legitimacy of indulgences, or the authority of the Church to grant them, should be excommunicated. Meanwhile, the decree on Purgatory affirmed its existence and the power of prayers to help the souls there, whilst urging bishops to remove any superstition relating to this doctrine by preaching it clearly and correctly.94 Given the time constraints, approval had to be given to all decrees, including that on Purgatory, on the 3 and 4 December 1563 when the Council was hastily concluded. On 26 January 1564 Pius IV confirmed and disseminated all the Council’s decrees in his bull Benedictus Deus.95 The Tridentine Profession of Faith (Professio fidei tridentinae) was promulgated by another bull of Pius IV, Iniunctum nobis, on 13 November 1564. This Profession of Faith attributed a greater significance to Purgatory and indulgences than they had been afforded during the Council of Trent, where they had only been approved as issues of reform rather than doctrine. The validity of indulgences was confirmed and when referring to Purgatory the Profession stated: ‘I steadfastly hold that there is a Purgatory, and that the souls detained there are helped by the acts of intercession of the faithful’.96 This is a simple affirmation of Purgatory’s existence as a place but it still does not include any reference to the location of Purgatory or to what that location might look like, the type of sin purged there or the form of punishment within it. Nevertheless, priests had to swear to this vague Profession of Faith until the twentieth century, showing how the affirmation of Purgatory at Trent would establish it as a legitimate doctrine of the Catholic Church for the centuries that followed.
We have therefore seen that although the existence of Purgatory as a place in the afterlife is confirmed in the sixteenth century, there has been ambiguity about central aspects of this realm since its inception. Indeed, the acceptance of Purgatory as a doctrine by the Catholic Church has been largely dictated by political circumstances or religious
94 Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. by Rev. H. J. Schroeder (London: B. Herder Book Co., 1941), p. 214. 95 This paragraph is informed by O’Malley, pp. 250-84. 96 O’Malley also cites the Tridentine Profession of Faith concerning indulgences: ‘I also affirm that the power of indulgences was left by Christ to the Church and that the use of them is most wholesome for Christian people’ (O’Malley, p. 284).
39 opposition rather than by a conscious desire to achieve clarity for its own sake. The lack of importance attributed to defining the realm itself has meant that the structure and location of Purgatory, as well as the type of punishment which takes place there and the sins to be purged, are not addressed with any certainty in the Church Council documents we have examined. Moreover, although Purgatory does begin to be defined separately from Hell in the thirteenth century, the subsequent brief doctrinal references to this realm do not explicitly link it to Paradise, as is the case in both Dante’s Purgatorio and modern theological discussions. This suggests that despite the unprecedented tangibility of Purgatorio, Dante’s poem had little impact upon conciliar definitions of Purgatory. Indeed, the same wording used in the ‘Clementine formula’ to describe Purgatory appears again in both the Second Council of Lyons and later in the Council of Ferrara-Florence. There is thus no obvious shift in the theological description of Purgatory following the composition of Dante’s Purgatorio in the fourteenth century. However, the relatively sparse attention afforded to Purgatory in the Church Councils does serve to underline the remarkable detail, clarity and purpose which Dante brings to this middle realm of the afterlife. Purgatorio therefore appears to constitute an exception amidst persistently vague definitions of Purgatory’s geographical and spiritual character in Church doctrine. This would suggest, as Le Goff claims, that although the Church confirmed ‘the essence of the dogma’, the representation of Purgatory was ultimately ‘left to the sensibility and imagination of individual Christians’.97 The consistently ambiguous nature of Purgatory at a doctrinal level may consequently allow for considerable artistic freedom and variation in the portrayal of the realm, not only in Dante’s Purgatorio, but also in the subsequent literary and visual texts I examine in this thesis. However, it is the unprecedented clarity of Dante’s Purgatorio that has led me to consider the extent of its influence for the representations of Purgatory that followed.
Critical Approaches to the Study of Purgatory The theological and popular influences shaping the initial emergence of the doctrine of Purgatory have been subject to extensive analysis. As we have seen, in his book The Birth of Purgatory, Le Goff emphasises the role of social change and theological writings for the development of Purgatory from the sixth century BC to Dante’s Purgatorio in the early fourteenth century. This broad time frame, which enables Le Goff to chart the
97 Le Goff, p. 334.
40 origins and development of the concept of Purgatory across numerous theological and literary sources, has inspired my own work in this thesis. However, unlike Le Goff, I will concentrate on a post-Dantean Italian context, privileging visual and literary works in my analysis of Purgatory’s development, rather than theological writings and visionary literature which have been more widely studied. While Le Goff’s study remains the most comprehensive on the emergence of Purgatory, Aron Gurevich has challenged Le Goff’s tendency to over-emphasise the role of theological writings and Church Councils in the development of this doctrine. Gurevich suggests that Le Goff does not attribute enough importance to the role of the medieval visionary tradition for the emergence of Purgatory.98 Scholars of religion, such as Alison Morgan and Carol Zaleski, have, like Gurevich, foregrounded the role of visionary literature for developing representations of the afterlife in the medieval and early modern periods.99 However, the influence of the visions, like that of preaching, visual art and the Commedia, has rarely been considered in relation to Purgatory alone. Historians like Bernstein, meanwhile, have taken cultural, political and economic factors into account when analysing the development of Purgatory. These include, for example, the growing importance attributed to individual death and judgement, following events such as the introduction of annual confession in 1215 and the Black Death in 1348, as well as the use of indulgences which brought economic benefits to the Church.100 By contrast, scholars such as John O’Malley and Joseph Gill have focused in detail on the Church Councils and, like Le Goff, they include an examination of how certain Church Councils defined Purgatory.101 Purgatory has also been considered in relation to the debates that took place between the Greek and Latin churches during the medieval and early modern periods.102 The growth of Purgatory has therefore often been examined within theological and historical studies, concerned primarily with the history of the
98 See Gurevich, Medieval Popular Culture; and Gurevich, ‘Popular and Scholarly Medieval Cultural Traditions’, 71-90. 99 On the use of repeated themes and motifs found in the medieval visions, see Alison Morgan, Dante and the Medieval Other World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner; Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys; Howard Rollin Patch, The Other World According to Descriptions in Medieval Literature (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1950); and Pio Rajna, La materia e la forma della “Divina Commedia”: i mondi oltraterreni nelle letterature classiche e nelle medievali, ed. by Claudia Di Fonzo (Florence: Le Lettere, 1998 [1874]). On the Commedia’s relation to the visionary tradition, see Gardiner, ‘Visions and Journeys’, pp. 341-53; and Barolini, ‘“Why did Dante write the Commedia?”’, pp. 1-8. 100 See MacCulloch, A History of Christianity; Bernstein, IV, 200-16; and Casey, After Lives. 101 See Bathrellos, p. 78; O’Malley, Trent: What happened at the Council; and Gill, The Council of Florence. 102 Mîrsanu, pp. 180-81; Nichols, Rome and the Eastern Churches; and Ombres, pp. 1-14.
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Catholic Church, which consider the development of this doctrine to be defined by the Church Councils and/or by wider cultural and historical issues. Although this thesis draws on the historical context evidenced in these studies, it follows Le Goff’s study by taking Purgatory as its main subject of analysis. There has been growing critical interest in Dante’s relationship to theology, as demonstrated by the recent AHRC project ‘Dante and Late Medieval Florence: Theology in Poetry, Practice and Society’ (2012-2017).103 However, while many Dante scholars have studied the theological resonances in Purgatorio, the influence of Dante’s conception of Purgatory upon subsequent doctrine has not yet been examined in great detail. When debating the significance of Purgatory today, theologians mainly discuss the tensions between punishment and purification in the definition of this realm and whether Purgatory provides a ‘second chance’ for salvation.104 Whilst many of these twentieth and twenty-first-century theological studies do not focus on Dante’s representation of Purgatory in their analysis of this doctrine, it is surprising that modern theologians occasionally draw upon Purgatorio when seeking to justify the existence of a purgatorial realm.105 Some have even suggested that Dante’s Purgatorio has not just influenced modern conceptions of Purgatory but also other aspects of modern society, such as conceptions of time.106 Modern theological works have thus sometimes underlined the influence of Purgatorio for current definitions of Purgatory. By contrast, Dante’s poem is generally not included in historical studies, which tend to focus on cultural, political and
103 For publications related to the AHRC project, directed by Matthew Treherne, see Vittorio Montemaggi, Reading Dante’s Commedia as Theology: Divinity Realised in Human Encounter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016); Simon Gilson, ‘Sincretismo e scolastica in Dante’, Studi e problemi di critica testuale, 90 (2015), 317-39; Nicolò Maldina, ‘L’ars orandi di Dante e lo status teologico delle anime del Purgatorio’, Italianistica, XLIV (2015), 115-29; Se mai continga… Exile, Politics And Theology In Dante, ed. by Claire E. Honess and Matthew Treherne (Ravenna: Longo, 2013); Reviewing Dante’s Theology, ed. by Claire E. Honess and Matthew Treherne, 2 vols (Bern: Peter Lang, 2013); and Dante’s Commedia: Theology As Poetry, ed. by Vittorio Montemaggi and Matthew Treherne (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2010). 104 On the sanctification vs. satisfaction models of Purgatory see, amongst others, Neal Judisch, ‘Sanctification, Satisfaction, and the Purpose of Purgatory’, Faith and Philosophy, 26 (2009), 167-85; and David Brown, ‘No Heaven without Purgatory’, Religious Studies, 21 (1985), 447-56,
42 economic factors when discussing the development of Purgatory in the medieval and early modern periods. As well as theological works, there are also some art historical studies which focus on the representation of Purgatory in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. These studies have predominantly focused on a French or Spanish context and so do not consider Dante’s Purgatorio in relation to the artworks they examine.107 While these critical works centre on the visual representation of Purgatory, this is not the case for the frescoes and altarpieces from the Italian peninsula that I have selected in this thesis. My Italian examples have been the subject of art historical studies which explore the works holistically, rather than focusing on their relationship to the concept of Purgatory. These studies, which will be examined in more detail in chapters two and three, are instead generally dominated by an examination of artistic technique, as well as inquiry into the artist, history and location of the work in question.108 These critics rarely consider the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio in their analysis, although there are a few exceptions as we shall see in the following section. By questioning how Purgatory was represented after the composition of Dante’s Purgatorio in selected literary and visual works, this thesis therefore aims to expand both upon Le Goff’s study, which focuses on Purgatory but concludes with the Commedia, and more recent work in Dante Studies that has instead focused on Dante’s relationship to theology in the Commedia itself. This thesis also takes inspiration from existing art historical studies that have looked at the representation of Purgatory, but it expands upon these by considering rarely studied artworks in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio and within a specifically Italian context.
107 On the iconography of Purgatory in the French tradition see, amongst others, Michel Vovelle, Les Âmes du purgatoire ou le travail du deuil (Paris: Gallimard, 1996); Francois Virgitti, ‘L’iconographie du purgatoire dans les manuscrits liturgiques du XIIIe au XVe siècle’, Histoire de l’art, 20 (1992), 51-65; and Michèle Bastard-Fournié, ‘Deux représentations méridionales du Purgatoire: Flavin en Rouergue et Martignac en Quercy’, Annales du Midi: revue archéologique, historique et philologique de la France méridionale, 175 (1986), 363-85,
43
Critical Approaches to the Reception of Dante’s Commedia There have been many studies of the Commedia’s reception which privilege the commentary and manuscript miniature traditions but, so far, the representation of Purgatory in these works has not been specifically investigated. The early commentary tradition has been extensively researched by scholars, who have often shaped their studies around specific commentators, periods or locations.109 Some critics, such as Zygmunt Barański, have challenged the tendency to perceive the commentaries merely as aids to understanding the Commedia, and have instead focused on studying the commentaries as texts in their own right.110 However, as the commentaries were designed to provide detailed explanations of the whole of Dante’s poem, critics tend to focus on the tradition as it relates to the entire Commedia rather than its significance for the specific development and doctrine of Purgatory. Studies of manuscript illuminations of the Commedia have also tended to focus upon the whole work, whether analysing certain manuscripts in detail, or offering an overview of the Commedia miniatures and image production.111 Consequently, these studies rarely situate the illuminations of Purgatorio within the broader context of the visual representation of Purgatory. Scholars of Dante’s cultural reception, meanwhile, have recently shown a particular interest in the literary and artistic responses to the Commedia in the nineteenth to twenty- first centuries, although these modern responses often draw more extensively upon Dante’s Inferno rather than his Purgatorio.112 There are, nevertheless, several examples of direct representations of Dante’s Purgatorio in fourteenth to sixteenth-century fresco
109 See, for example, Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Chiosar con altro testo’: leggere Dante nel Trecento (Florence: Cadmo, 2001); and Simon Gilson, Dante and Renaissance Florence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). A comprehensive list of studies on the commentaries is provided in chapter one. 110 Barański, ‘Chiosar con altro testo’, pp. 33-34. 111 Examples of studies with detailed analysis of specific manuscripts include Il Manoscritto Egerton 943: Dante Alighieri, ‘Commedia’: saggi e commenti, ed. by Marco Santagata (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana fondata da Giovanni Treccani, 2015); and Andrea Mazzucchi, ‘A Pictorial Interpretation of Dante’s Commedia: Federigo Zuccari’s Dante historiato’, in Interpreting Dante: Essays on the Traditions of Dante Commentary, ed. by Paola Nasti and Claudia Rossignoli (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013), pp. 389-433. For a more general consideration of manuscript miniatures of the Commedia, see Chiara Ponchia, Frammenti dell’aldilà: miniature trecentesche della ‘Divina commedia’ (Padua: Il poligrafo, 2015). See chapter one for further bibliography on the Commedia miniatures. 112 On modern cultural responses to the Commedia, see Nick Havely, Dante’s British Public: Readers and Texts, from the Fourteenth Century to the Present (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); Manuele Gragnolati, Amor che move: linguaggio del corpo e forma del desiderio in Dante, Pasolini e Morante, (Milan: Il Saggiatore, 2013); Metamorphosing Dante: Appropriations, Manipulations, and Rewriting in the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries, ed. by Manuele Gragnolati, Fabio Camiletti, and Fabian Lampart (Vienna and Berlin: Verlag Turia + Kant, 2011); Dante in the Nineteenth Century: Reception, Canonicity, Popularization, ed. by Nick Havely (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2011); Nick Havely, Dante’s Modern Afterlife: Reception and Response from Blake to Heaney; and Dante on View: The Reception of Dante in the Visual and Performing Arts, ed. by Antonella Braida and Luisa Calè (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007).
44 which have been frequently discussed. These include Luca Signorelli’s frescoes in the Cappella Nuova in Orvieto, dating from c. 1499-1504, and Domenico di Michelino’s La commedia illumina Firenze (1456), located in the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence.113 The influence of the Commedia has also been considered for some of the frescoes and altarpieces I am examining in this thesis. In these studies, however, it is ultimately the influence of the medieval visions, or Dante’s Inferno and the concept of Hell, that takes precedence over Purgatorio, which is normally only briefly referenced.114 Although the relation between Dante’s Commedia and certain visual representations of the afterlife in the medieval and early modern periods has thus been recognised in scholarship, the influence of Purgatorio specifically is often uncertain and so has not yet been studied in much detail. Consequently, most of the frescoes and altarpieces that I am examining have not been considered in relation to Dante’s poem at all. The relationship between Dante’s poem and subsequent fourteenth to sixteenth- century literary works has been more widely studied. The presence of Dante in Boccaccio’s writings, for example, is often analysed by scholars and the role of Boccaccio for Dante’s reception, especially in Florence, has been thoroughly examined.115 There is less historical evidence to demonstrate Frezzi’s engagement with Dante in the Quadriregio, however, and so Frezzi’s relationship with Dante has not yet been studied in as much detail. The Quadriregio, which describes Frezzi journeying through an afterlife that includes a purgatorial realm, is important to study in relation to Dante as it not only employs terza rima but also presents many geographical and theological similarities to the Commedia. The scholars who take Dante’s influence into account have considered the structural, thematic and linguistic parallels between the Commedia and the Quadriregio.116 However, this critical analysis is often dominated by
113 For key studies on Signorelli and Michelino’s frescoes, see chapter two. 114 See, for example, Noel Mac Tréinfhir, ‘The Todi Fresco and St. Patrick’s Purgatory, Lough derg’, Clogher Record, 12 (1986), 141-58,
45 the widespread but unsubstantiated view that Frezzi was a poor imitator of Dante.117 By contrast, my thesis will follow the example of Elena Laureti, who avoids the value judgements associated with previous critical treatments of the Quadriregio in her work.118 Rejecting these negative critical comparisons with the Commedia will allow me to explore the complex relationship between Frezzi and Dante, building upon existing scholarship with a more detailed consideration of the extent of Dante’s influence on the conception of Purgatory in the Quadriregio. This brief overview of existing scholarship therefore demonstrates that there has been relatively little research regarding the specific impact of Purgatorio upon the developing literary and artistic portrayal of Purgatory in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. While the influence of the Commedia as a whole has sometimes been considered in relation to the literary and visual texts I am examining, my purgatorial focus and the interdisciplinary and comparative nature of my approach will offer a new perspective in the study of Dante’s reception.
Methodology There are several questions that this thesis needs to take into account when analysing literary and visual texts in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio. As I will look at the interpretative role of those producing texts, I will need to consider how these writers and artists may have come into contact with Dante’s poem. While I examine how these texts respond to Dante, it is necessary to be mindful of how we define ‘influence’ and the potential hierarchies associated with this approach. My methodology combines aspects of source studies with theories of intertextuality in its consideration of the interrelationship of sources across different media. This approach, encompassing both direct responses to and potential rewritings of Purgatorio, allows Dantean influence to be studied even when the engagement with Dante’s text is not explicit.
Transmission of the Commedia
‘Cultura e poesia nel Trecento - V. La letteratura allegorico-didattica’, in Storia della letteratura italiana, ed. by Emilio Cecchi and Natalino Sapegno, 9 vols (Milan: Garzanti, 1965-69), II (1965), 582-602 (pp. 600- 02); and Giuseppe Rotondi, Federico Frezzi: la vita e l’opera (Todi: Atanòr, 1921), pp. 86-114. 117 On the Quadriregio as a poor imitation of the Commedia, see Rotondi, p. 94, p. 96. Further bibliography is provided in chapter four. 118 Elena Laureti, ‘Il quadriregio’ di Federico Frezzi da Foligno al viaggio nei quattro regni (Foligno: Edizioni Orfini Numeister, 2007), pp. 21-22, p. 26, p. 34, p. 37, p. 499.
46
The transmission context of the Commedia allows us to understand how Dante’s concept of Purgatory was disseminated and who may have had access to it in the periods under consideration. This thesis focuses on the responses of certain texts to Dante’s doctrine of Purgatory and so an awareness of the Commedia’s transmission will help to situate my analysis within the broader context of Dante’s reception in this period. Whilst the study of reception usually considers the relationship between an author, a text and a reader, Ika Willis also underlines that ‘thinking about reception entails thinking about the system itself: about the people, processes and institutions involved in the production, transmission, distribution and circulation of messages and texts’.119 This will be very important when thinking about the different ways in which writers and artists may have come into contact with Dante’s Purgatorio in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries and how this may have affected their response to Dante’s poem. This approach will also enable a greater understanding of the ways in which the doctrine of Purgatory was spread and received in this period. I will therefore begin by offering an overview of the transmission of Purgatorio during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, taking into account the principal audiences for this text. There are many existing manuscripts of the Commedia but the majority of those from the Italian peninsula are Florentine, suggesting that this was the area in which knowledge of Purgatorio was most likely to be concentrated. Keith Busby and Christopher Kleinhenz demonstrate that there are over 800 surviving codices of the Commedia dating from the 1330s through the fifteenth century, although this number includes partial and fragmentary copies.120 Marcella Roddewig has divided Italian manuscripts of the Commedia, dating from the fourteenth to eighteenth centuries, into geographical regions according to either the origin of the scribe, or that of the owner or client of the manuscript.121 Her work demonstrates that there were many more Tuscan, and particularly Florentine, manuscripts of the Commedia in existence when compared to other regions, especially in the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries. Out of a total of 131 fourteenth to sixteenth-century manuscripts of the Commedia with Tuscan owners or clients, she demonstrates that 104 of these, dating from 1330 to the end of the sixteenth
119 Ika Willis, Reception (London: Routledge, 2018), p. 5. 120 Keith Busby and Christopher Kleinhenz, ‘Medieval French and Italian Literature: Towards a Manuscript History’, in The Medieval Manuscript Book: Cultural Approaches, ed. by Michael Johnston and Michael Van Dussen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 215-42 (p. 230). 121 See Marcella Roddewig, Dante Alighieri, Die göttliche Komödie: vergleichende Bestandsaufnahme der Commedia-Handschriften (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1984).
47 century, were owned by Florentines, while 46 manuscripts, dating from 1330-1477, had scribes of Florentine origin.122 Indeed, the analysis of Christian Bec establishes the Commedia as the second most commonly owned book by Renaissance Florentines, behind the Gospels, until the mid-sixteenth century.123 This may be significant for the frescoes and altarpieces I am examining in this thesis as they originate primarily from Tuscany and Umbria. Given the popularity of the Commedia in Florence in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, it is more likely that those involved in the production process of these artworks would have been aware of Dante’s poem. Although Florentine copies of the Commedia proliferate in this period, commentaries were written for the poem in cities across the Italian peninsula, including Genoa, Pisa, Verona, Bologna, Florence and Naples.124 Commentaries were usually only written for classical or scriptural texts and so it was extremely unusual for a vernacular work to generate substantial critical interest, especially across such a large area of the Italian peninsula.125 The vast commentary tradition therefore demonstrates that Dante’s poem was highly regarded throughout the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. However, as my analysis of the commentary tradition will show, the many innovations associated with Dante’s conception and representation of Purgatory are rarely mentioned, suggesting that the theologically complex debate concerning the doctrine of Purgatory was probably not widely discussed in this intellectual context. The Commedia was popular amongst diverse audiences in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, including both the elite and the less-educated masses. Brian Richardson emphasizes that the readers of the Commedia in manuscript form were often wealthy, educated members of society, given the luxurious nature of many of the copies and the high social status of the dedicatees.126 However, Barański shows that as well as luxurious illustrated manuscripts there were also less ornate copies which were popular amongst the
122 Roddewig, pp. LXIII-LXIV, and pp. LXXV-LXXIX. To put this into perspective, there were only 6 manuscripts of the Commedia with Sienese owners or clients, dating from the fifteenth to sixteenth century, and only one fourteenth-century manuscript with a Sienese scribe, although there are four others containing language that is likely to be Sienese (p. LXV and p. LXXX). Moreover, the region with the second largest number of manuscripts of the Commedia behind Tuscany was the Republic of Venice, where there were only 23 manuscripts by Venetian scribes, dating from 1372-1502, and 36 manuscripts, dating from 1368 to the late sixteenth century, with Venetian owners or clients in the whole region (pp. LIX-LX, pp. LXIX-LXXI). 123 Christian Bec, Les livres des Florentins (Florence: Olschki, 1984), p. 34, p. 62. See also Brian Richardson, ‘Editing Dante’s Commedia’, in Dante Now: Current Trends in Dante Studies, ed. by Theodore J. Cachey, Jr (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995), pp. 237-62 (p. 246). 124 Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, in Dante in Context, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Lino Pertile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 518-37 (p. 522). 125 Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, pp. 521-22. 126 Richardson, ‘Editing Dante’s Commedia’, pp. 246-49.
48 mercantile classes in the fourteenth century, suggesting copies of the poem were designed for different audiences.127 Moreover, preachers, schools and universities started to make the text more accessible during this time and commentaries were translated into regional vernaculars.128 The extent of engagement with Dante’s text is also hinted at in two short stories by the fourteenth-century Florentine writer Franco Sacchetti, which describe a blacksmith and then a mule driver singing passages from Dante’s Commedia.129 Although these two stories may be apocryphal in nature, it is still likely that Dante’s poem reached these sections of the population with much lower literacy levels via public readings. In October 1373, for example, Boccaccio began reading his Esposizioni sopra la ‘Commedia’ in the Church of Santo Stefano di Badia in Florence. Although he was commissioned by the city to read the entire Commedia, he was forced to stop due to ill health in January 1374, after reaching Inferno XVII.130 There were, however, many other public readings of the Commedia amongst the less-educated, especially in Florence during the fifteenth to sixteenth centuries, which allowed the text to continue reaching different levels of society.131 Printed editions of the Commedia also reached a socially diverse audience. Whilst some editions from the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, with surrounding commentary or with no explanatory notes at all, required a certain level of education to be understood, others were designed to help the reader.132 For example, Richardson shows that, in contrast to previous editions, Lodovico Dolce’s 1555 edition of the Commedia was designed to facilitate understanding as much as possible, containing canto summaries, alongside explanations of the text and lists explaining difficult words. This
127 Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, p. 522-23. 128 Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, pp. 522-23; and Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Textual Transmission’, in Dante in Context, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Lino Pertile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 509-17 (p. 509, pp. 511-13). On the early reception and transmission of the Commedia see also Corrado Bologna, Tradizione e fortuna dei classici italiani, 2 vols (Turin: Einaudi, 1993), I, 157-99; Andrea Canova, ‘Il testo della Commedia dopo l’edizione Petrocchi’, Testo, 32 (2011), 65- 78; Gianfranco Folena, ‘La tradizione delle opere di Dante Alighieri’, in Atti congresso internazionale di studi danteschi, 2 vols (Florence: Sansoni, 1965-66), I (1965), 1-78; and Werner P. Friedrich, Dante’s Fame Abroad 1350-1850 (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1950). 129 See Anna Pegoretti, ‘Dismembered Voices and Acoustic Memories’, Italian Studies, 71 (2016), 225-37 (pp. 235-36); Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, p. 523; and John Ahern, ‘Singing the Book: Orality in the Reception of Dante’s Comedy’ in Dante: Contemporary Perspectives (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), pp. 214-39 (pp. 214-15, pp. 226-29). 130 Boccaccio: A Critical Guide to the Complete Works, ed. by Victoria Kirkham, Michael Sherberg and Janet Levarie Smarr (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013), p. xix. 131 Richardson, ‘Editing Dante’s Commedia’, p. 246. 132 This paragraph is informed by Richardson, ‘Editing Dante’s Commedia’, pp. 246-51.
49 suggests that it may have been aimed at a less-educated audience, including women readers. While the paratextual elements may have helped a less-educated audience to read and understand the content of the poem, they may also have been designed to help those who were already literate to learn to write in the style of a Tuscan.133 In the sixteenth century, it was agreed that literary language should be based upon fourteenth-century Tuscan, used by writers such as Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio.134 The questione della lingua could therefore account for the explanations in Dolce’s edition, which may have served to help contemporary writers imitate this early literary language. It will be important to take the audience and popularity of the Commedia into account when considering the types of text that were subsequently influenced by Dante and who was creating them. While I will not investigate the Commedia’s early readership in detail in this thesis, I will analyse how the creators of selected literary and visual texts responded to Dante’s Purgatory, if at all, whilst also considering the potential audiences for these texts. This strand of analysis will permit a greater understanding of how Dante’s Purgatory was interpreted in this period and who may have been impacted by his doctrine.
Source studies vs. Intertextuality As this thesis looks at the relationship between text and source, it raises methodological questions concerning the different ways in which we can frame and think about that relationship. The study of textual and authorial influence encompasses a broad spectrum of approaches, from source studies to intertextuality. On the one hand, a traditional source studies approach considers the ways in which text ‘x’ influences text ‘y’, thereby promoting a linear hierarchy of influence. This concept of ‘influence over’ establishes a direct connection between two texts and, in so doing, assumes that the author is knowingly accepting the influence of a previous text. Although this may seem to be the most ‘common sense’ approach when examining the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio upon later representations of Purgatory, it is rather acritical, especially as it avoids
133 On the reception of Renaissance editions of the Commedia, see Simon Gilson, Reading Dante in Renaissance Italy: Florence, Venice and the ‘Divine Poet’ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). 134 Brian Richardson, Print Culture in Renaissance Italy: The Editor and the Vernacular Text, 1470-1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. 62, p. 182; and Brian Richardson, ‘Questions of Language’, in The Cambridge Companion to Modern Italian Culture, ed. by Zygmunt Barański and Rebecca West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 63-80 (p. 63).
50 questions concerning the transmission and mediation of texts and it does not problematize authorial intention. This ‘common sense’ approach to the relationship between texts has been challenged by the insights associated with theories of intertexuality and intermediality. Such theories, first developed in the 1960s, examine the interconnection of texts, focusing on written texts and diverse media respectively.135 The French theorist Julia Kristeva claims that written texts are intertextual because they do not have any sealed, independent meaning, but rather gain meaning through their relationship to other texts.136 Judith Still and Michael Worton argue that this is because ‘all writers are first readers, and that all writers are subject to influence’, and consequently ‘all texts are necessarily criss-crossed by other texts’.137 Meaning can therefore only exist between texts.138 The reader must consequently trace the relations between a text and other related texts in order to discover its meaning.139 This implies that texts cannot be produced and given a single meaning by an author, which must then be accepted by a reader.140 Meaning is instead determined by
135 On the flexibility of the terms intertextuality and intermediality, see Gabriele Rippl, ‘Introduction’, in Handbook of Intermediality: Literature – Image – Sound – Music, ed. by Gabriele Rippl (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), pp. 1-31 (p. 1, p. 6, pp. 10-11); Lars Elleström, ‘Introduction’, Media Borders, Multimodality and Intermediality, ed. by Lars Elleström (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), pp. 1-8 (p. 4); Literary Intermediality: The Transit of Literature through the Media Circuit, ed. by Maddalena Penacchia Punzi (Bern: Peter Lang, 2007), pp. 10-12; Irina O. Rajewsky, ‘Intermediality, Intertextuality, and Remediation: A Literary Perspective on Intermediality’, Intermédialités, 6 (2005), 43-65 (pp. 44-45); and Graham Allen, Intertextuality (London: Routledge, 2000), p. 2. On intermediality as a subcategory of intertextuality, see Claus Clüver, ‘Intermediality and Interarts Studies’, in Changing Borders: Contemporary Positions in Intermediality, ed. by Jens Arvidson and others (Lund: Intermedia Studies Press, 2007), pp. 19-37; Peter Wagner, ‘Introduction: Ekphrasis: Iconotexts, and Intermediality – the State(s) of the Art(s)’, in Icons – Texts – Iconotexts: Essays on Ekphrasis and Intermediality, ed. by Peter Wagner (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1996), pp. 1-42 (p. 36); and Heinrich Plett, ‘Intertextualities’, in Intertextuality: Research in Text Theory, ed. by Heinrich Plett (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1991), pp. 3-29 (p. 20). On intertextuality as a subcategory of intermediality see Valerie Robillard, ‘Beyond Definition: A Pragmatic Approach to Intermediality’, in Media Borders, Multimodality and Intermediality, ed. by Lars Elleström (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), pp. 150-62 (p. 160). 136 Allen, p. 6. Paul Zumthor has applied this poststructuralist approach in a medieval context, suggesting that the term ‘work’ can encompass numerous textual states. Rather than presenting a static, finished version of the ‘work’, these textual states demonstrate that the text is dynamic as it is being constantly recreated. He describes this textual mobility using the term mouvance; see Paul Zumthor, Essai de poétique médiévale (Paris: Seuil, 1972), pp. 72-73. 137 Intertextuality: Theories and Practices, ed. by Michael Worton and Judith Still (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1990), p. 30. 138 Allen, p. 6. 139 Allen, p. 1, p. 6; and Willis, p. 40. Graham Allen indicates, however, that ‘poststructuralist critics employ the term intertextuality to disrupt notions of meaning, whilst structuralist critics employ the same term to locate and even fix literary meaning’, thereby demonstrating that intertextuality has been used to different ends in modern literary theory (Allen, p. 4). This is seen, for example, in the structuralist approach of Michael Riffaterre, who suggests that ultimately it does not matter if the reader does not manage to locate the intertext, as long as he or she presupposes that it is present, see Michael Riffaterre, ‘Interview’, Diacritics, 11 (1981), 12-16 (p. 16); and Intertextuality: Theories and Practices, p. 26. 140 David Macey, The Penguin Dictionary of Critical Theory (London: Penguin, 2000), p. 84.
51 other texts and ‘language viewed intertextually’.141 This is the context in which Roland Barthes proclaimed the ‘death of the author’, as the author can no longer be seen to assign ultimate meaning to a text.142 This theory therefore contradicts the source studies approach outlined above as it denies any intent or agency on the part of the author. This lack of authorial intent problematizes the concepts of chronology and influence, which this thesis needs to draw upon if it is to study subsequent responses to a specified text, namely Dante’s Purgatorio.143 Indeed, according to Kristeva’s theory, intertextuality is ‘not simply a matter of influences which passed from one author to another, but of the multiple and complex relations that exist between texts in both synchronic and diachronic terms’.144 More recently, the British scholar Mary Orr emphasised that Kristeva’s concept of intertextuality involved an ‘interactive, permutational production of text’.145 Following this poststructuralist interpretation, Dante’s text will be transformed by its absorption into another text because during this process all intertexts are attributed equal significance.146 This means that different works will also be absorbed into Dante’s poem on equal terms, just as the Commedia is subsequently assimilated into other texts. The theory of intermediality makes comparisons across diverse media in the same way, without privileging one medium over another.147 Both these theories therefore complicate the idea that Dante’s Purgatorio could influence later texts in the context of the development of Purgatory, as they each reject the ‘hierarchical order of “influence over”’ that characterises earlier models of source studies.148
141 Allen, p. 72. See also Macey, p. 84. 142 See Roland Barthes, ‘The Death of the Author’, in Image, Music, Text, trans. by Stephen Heath (New York: Noonday, 1978), pp. 142-48; and Macey, pp. 83-84. 143 Scholars who challenge this poststructuralist rejection of intention and authority include Raphael Lyne, Memory and Intertextuality in Renaissance Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), p. 21, p. 23; and Mary Orr, Intertextuality: Debates and Contexts (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2003), p. 60, pp. 83-93. 144 Macey, p. 204. 145 Orr, p. 27. 146 Orr, p. 28. 147 On the crossing of media boundaries, see Margitta Rouse, ‘Text-Picture Relationships in the Early Modern Period’, in Handbook of Intermediality: Literature – Image – Sound – Music, ed. by Gabriele Rippl (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), pp. 65-81 (p. 65); and Literary Intermediality: The Transit of Literature through the Media Circuit, ed. by Punzi, pp. 10-12. Rouse draws on the following work: Irina O. Rajewsky, Intermedialität (Stuttgart: UTB, 2002). On the different intermedial phenomena, see Barbara Straumann, ‘Adaptation – Remediation – Transmediality’, in Handbook of Intermediality: Literature – Image – Sound – Music, ed. by Gabriele Rippl (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), pp. 249-67 (p. 256); Rippl, ‘Introduction’, pp. 10- 14; Rajewsky, ‘Intermediality, Intertextuality, and Remediation’, 43-65; and Werner Wolf, ‘Intermediality’, in the Routledge Encyclopedia of Narrative Theory (London: Routledge, 2005), pp. 252-56. 148 Orr, p. 83; see also Siglind Bruhn, ‘Penrose, ‘Seeing is Believing’: Intentionality, Mediation and Comprehension in the Arts, in Media Borders, Multimodality and Intermediality, ed. by Lars Elleström (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), pp. 137-49 (p. 137).
52
A fully intertextual and intermedial approach is thus not entirely appropriate for this thesis, as I am considering the specific relationship between Dante’s Purgatorio and subsequent texts. However, a source studies approach is also unsuitable as it assumes knowledge of authorial intent, focusing on how one author directly influences another while excluding the numerous different agents at work in a text. My research therefore aims to find a middle ground that allows the relationship between texts to be considered without glossing over the difficult questions of influence and authorial intent raised by modern theorists. In order to do this, I will draw on the concepts which characterise a text-to-text approach to reception, as well as the work of Michael Baxandall, who establishes a ‘positive influence’ approach that includes elements of source studies and intertextuality.149 Incorporating aspects of both a text-to-text and a positive influence approach, outlined in detail below, will allow me to consider the responses to Dante’s poem in literary and visual texts without focusing on the hierarchical notion of Dante’s ‘influence over’ them. I will also employ Raphael Lyne’s methodology concerning ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality, which will enable me to study subsequent literary and visual texts’ engagement with Purgatorio, even when the degree of intentionality is difficult to ascertain.150 This is important because, although the commentators’ knowledge of Dante is known, it is uncertain whether the artists of the visual representations I examine and the author of the Quadriregio are consciously manipulating Dante’s Purgatorio. Like Baxandall, then, my methodology will combine certain elements from these diverse theories in order to provide a more nuanced perspective on the relationship between Dante’s Purgatorio and subsequent literary and visual texts.
Positive Influence As we have seen, a fully intertextual approach is not suitable for this thesis as it denies the possibility of Dante’s Purgatorio having any ‘influence over’ subsequent texts. However, Baxandall argues that influence does not necessarily have to be viewed from this causal perspective. Instead of having an earlier source ‘x’ which influences a later source ‘y’, he
149 Michael Baxandall, Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Explanation of Pictures (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987), p. 83. 150 Lyne, pp. 40-42.
53 suggests it is possible to view ‘y’ as positively influenced.151 This means that ‘y’ becomes the agent and so the focus is upon what ‘y’ is doing with ‘x’, rather than the influence of ‘x’ over ‘y’. The study of positive influence understands that ‘texts are the productions of multiple agencies and a plethora of intentions’.152 This idea, summarised by Orr, is central to my analysis because Dante’s influence can therefore be viewed as ‘an incoming tributary’, one of many which ‘generates something which was not there previously’ in the texts I am analysing.153 This differs from the ‘orderly web of previous texts’ that characterises intertextuality, and the focus on a ‘single lineage’ that is traditionally found in source studies. Influence from the past is instead ‘positively embraced as [a] mode of enhancement, even if the new narrative refutes the absolute authority of previous canonical works in the same vein’.154 A positive influence approach thus recognises the numerous agencies and influences at work in a text and will allow me to consider Dante’s impact whilst still rejecting the notion of hierarchy between texts that characterises source studies. I will use Baxandall’s approach to examine the structural and thematic influence of Purgatorio. A consideration of structural influence will include studying similarities with the general structure and poetic form of Dante’s Commedia; whilst thematic influence will comprise the use of Dantean locations, characters, situations, doctrine, motifs and imagery.155 I will therefore be able to explore these aspects of Dante’s influence by viewing Purgatorio as one of many sources that contributes not only to the representation of Purgatory in the following texts but also to the development of the doctrine of Purgatory more broadly during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.
A text-to-text approach to reception While I will use a positive influence approach to gauge how diverse texts relate to one another, my understanding of the creators, texts and readers specifically involved in this process will be informed by a text-to-text approach to reception. Although the language
151 Baxandall, Patterns of Intention, p. 83. On this concept of positive influence, see also Marko Juvan, ‘Towards a History of Intertextuality in Literary and Culture Studies’, Comparative Literature and Culture, 10 (2008), 1-9 (p. 5),
54 used in the study of reception is often tailored to literary texts, in this thesis I will employ it in a broad sense so that terms such as ‘text’ and ‘reader’ refer to both literary and visual works. The study of reception is characterised by ‘the idea that all texts are designed for an audience, and only become meaningful when they are read, viewed or listened to’.156 A text is therefore co-produced by numerous interpreters as it can only acquire meaning after having been interpreted. While the reader can be seen as a co-producer, the text may also have undergone many alterations following the interpretations of editors and others before it reaches its intended audience.157 In reception studies, then, a text cannot be studied without also considering the interpreter, as the two are understood to be inseparable.158 Text-to-text approaches to reception examine ‘the texts which readers/authors generate in response to other texts’.159 This contrasts with text-to-reader approaches to reception, where, instead of examining authors as readers, scholars analyse general readers and audiences and the process of reception is seen to take place in the readers themselves.160 Rather than occurring in the reader, the process of reception in a text-to- text approach takes place in the responding texts and is thus easier to observe. In this approach, ‘scholars study texts that adapt, appropriate, allude to, continue, critique, comment on, translate, revise or reframe other, existing texts’.161 Willis describes these processes as ‘rewritings’ (p. 36) but they are not restricted to written texts and can take place across a variety of different media.162 Instead of ‘rewritings’, Gérard Genette uses the formulation ‘in the second degree’ to describe any text ‘in a relationship, whether
156 Willis, p. 1, p. 143. 157 Trevor H. Howard-Hill, ‘Why Bibliography Matters’, in A Companion to the History of the Book, ed. by Simon Eliot and Jonathan Rose (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), pp. 9-20 (p. 15); Jerome J. McGann, The Textual Condition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), p. 22; and Willis, p. 145. See also Jerome J. McGann, A Critique of Modern Textual Criticism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983). 158 Willis, pp. 144-45. 159 Willis, p. 35. This paragraph is informed by Willis, pp. 35-39. 160 Jane Tompkins’ edited collection contains essays on numerous theories of reception concerning the text- to-reader relationship, including text-centred, reader-centred and context-centred approaches; see Reader Response Criticism: From Formalism to Post-Structuralism, ed. by Jane P. Tompkins (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980). On reader-response criticism see also Willis, pp. 68-107; Todd F. Davis and Kenneth Womack, Formalist Criticism and Reader-Response Theory (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), p. 53; Reception Study: From Literary Theory to Cultural Studies, ed. by James L. Machor and Philip Goldstein (New York: Routledge, 2001), p. xiii; Readers and Reading, ed. by Andrew Bennett (London: Longman, 1995), p. 4; and Janet Staiger, Interpreting Films: Studies in the Historical Reception of American Cinema (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), pp. 35-36. 161 Willis, p. 36. 162 On ‘rewriting’, see also André Lefevere, Translation, Rewriting and the Manipulation of Literary Fame (London: Routledge, 1992), pp. 3-4, p. 13.
55 obvious or concealed, with other texts’.163 It is possible to ‘think of these second-degree texts as receiving earlier texts: taking those texts into themselves, interpreting them, and/or making use of them for their own purposes’.164 Writers and artists are thus able to choose how they position their texts in relation to previous texts, whether that be to challenge, revere or attempt to surpass previous texts in content, style and/or structure.165 Willis’ definition of ‘rewritings’ encompasses direct responses to a text, such as those of the commentaries in chapter one, as well as potential allusions to a text, as in the Quadriregio examined in chapter four. A consideration of text-to-text reception will therefore allow this thesis to discuss how subsequent texts rework or disregard elements of Dante’s Purgatorio. My study recognises, however, that a text may not directly engage with Dante’s text at all. Although a text-to-text approach to reception focuses on the ways in which one text rewrites another, it does not exclude readers and reading. Instead, text-to-text reception recognises that the production of a new text is an interpretation of an earlier one and so writing and reading ultimately become inseparable.166 This means that the creator of a text is also an interpreter. When examining responses to a text it is therefore important to include historical evidence about the readers themselves.167 Macro-historical approaches consider broad trends, such as literacy levels and information on the publication and circulation of texts, whilst micro-historical approaches consider how individual readers used and responded to texts.168 This thesis will incorporate elements of macro-historical analysis in order to provide a more detailed picture of the audiences who may have interacted with the concept of Purgatory in these texts, whilst also employing a micro- historical approach in its discussion of writers’ and artists’ responses to Dante’s poem. In so doing, this thesis will be able to gauge some of ‘the interpretative strategies’ and ‘the poetic and ideological priorities’ of the writers, texts and cultures that received this poem.169
163 Gérard Genette, Palimpsests: Literature in the second degree, trans. by Jane E. Lewin (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), p. 1; Willis, p. 37. 164 Willis, p. 37. 165 See also Genette, p. 28. 166 Willis, p. 44. 167 On the complexity of analysing reader responses, see Jane P. Tompkins, ‘The Reader in History: The Changing Shape of Literary Response’, in Reader Response Criticism: From Formalism to Post- Structuralism, ed. by Jane P. Tompkins (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), pp. 201-32. 168 See Willis, p. 85; and The History of Reading: A Reader, ed. by Shafqat Towheed, Rosalind Crone and Katie Halsey (London: Routledge, 2011), pp. 2-3. 169 Willis, p. 46, pp. 48-49.
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Throughout Willis’ study, it is made clear that her notion of text-to-text reception is not ‘a passive process of repetition or copying, but an active process of selection, intervention, interpretation and reworking’ (p. 39) of existing texts. In the medieval and Renaissance periods in particular, imitation of earlier texts was considered a creative process, rather than a form of slavish copying.170 As creativity involves receiving and interpreting earlier texts, it does not connote originality in the modern sense of the word. According to Paul Zumthor, medieval texts participated in a common poetic language, which determined their characteristics.171 An author therefore did not undertake an imitation of a previous text but instead participated in this common language. Medieval textual production therefore resonates with Kristeva’s post-modern theory, as texts are inherently interrelated and do not rely on authorial intent. Willis explains that, ‘authors made new texts not out of nothing, or out of direct observation of the world around them, but out of the materials afforded them by the literary system’ (p. 43). While authors could still be creative, all variations happened within the confines of tradition. These literary traditions set a precedent for what the text must do, encouraging the reuse of well-known tropes and thereby promoting continuity in medieval poetic production. The new text therefore positions itself within a literary system or artistic tradition as it recognises and reworks previous models. The creation of a new text can therefore only take place in relation to other texts and this necessary engagement with existing material demonstrates that ‘all texts are, to some extent, receptions of earlier texts’.172 This means that the creators of the literary and visual texts I am examining can be seen as readers, whether they engage with Dante’s Purgatorio or not, because they are still responding to previous models in the act of creating a text.
Explicit and Implicit Acts of Intertextuality Even though creators of texts are also interpreters of other texts in a text-to-text approach to reception, they cannot be seen as readers of Dante’s Purgatorio specifically if there is no known engagement with his text. For the concept of ‘rewriting’ to work in this thesis, it therefore becomes necessary to determine whether an appropriation of Purgatorio is intentional. In order to address this issue, I will combine the approaches outlined above
170 See Martin McLaughlin, Literary Imitation in the Italian Renaissance: The Theory and Practice of Literary Imitation in Italy from Dante to Bembo (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995); and Thomas Greene, The Light in Troy: Imitation and Discovery in Renaissance Poetry (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982). 171 This paragraph synthesizes ideas from Willis, pp. 39-44; and Zumthor, pp. 68-103. 172 Willis, pp. 43-44.
57 with the concept of ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality developed by Raphael Lyne.173 Lyne’s work builds on theories of intertextuality and will permit the study of Dante’s influence without requiring there to be any known or deliberate engagement with Purgatorio, as would be needed, for example, in Genette’s theory of hypertextuality.174 This is important because I analyse several texts by artists and authors whose knowledge of Dante is uncertain. Although Dante’s relationship to these representations of Purgatory is not always known, examining them nonetheless allows for a more nuanced understanding of the role of Purgatorio in the development of Purgatory. The close interrelationship between texts in this period and the numerous contributors involved in the production process means that the origin, author and initial intent behind a text is often hard to establish.175 Even for a writer with an acknowledged engagement with Dante, such as Boccaccio, the question of intent is still uncertain. As Robert Hollander shows, although Boccaccio often appears purposely to select passages which resonate linguistically and contextually with Dante, it cannot be assumed that these Dantean echoes represent a pointed attempt to rewrite or engage with Dante’s text.176 According to Hollander and Guyda Armstrong, this is because Boccaccio could not always distinguish Dante’s influence in his own writing as it was so deeply ingrained, especially as Dante’s language permeated the new literary Italian to a considerable extent at this time.177 The question of whether those creating visual and literary texts are in control of the implications of their allusions is therefore unprovable and we ultimately cannot know if it is a deliberate choice on the part of the author or artist.178 This highlights the importance of Lyne’s approach for analysing the texts considered in this thesis.
173 Lyne, Memory and Intertextuality in Renaissance Literature. 174 Hypertextuality, one of the five categories of Genette’s transtextuality, looks at the relationship between a hypertext and a hypotext that is identifiable as its source. This relies on a text being intentionally intertextual and the hypotext being known. On Genette’s hypertextuality, see Allen, pp. 104-11; and Genette, Palimpsests. In order to resolve the problem when the hypotext, or intertext, is missing, Michael Riffaterre argues that the intertext can be presupposed by the reader. Allen shows that Riffaterre’s theory ‘depends heavily on the belief not only that texts give us clear clues to their decoding (a belief, that is, that texts can be properly decoded in their own terms), but also that readers have the capacity, the knowledge of the sociolect and of literary traditions, which will allow them to perform such a successful decoding’ (Allen, p. 121). On Riffaterre’s structuralism, see Allen, pp. 111-29; Riffaterre, p. 16; and Intertextuality: Theories and Practices, ed. by Worton and Still, p. 26. 175 Zumthor, pp. 70-73. 176 Hollander, Boccaccio’s Dante and the Shaping Force of Satire, p. 4, p. 14, p. 26. 177 Armstrong, ‘Boccaccio and Dante’, p. 121, p. 136; and Hollander, Boccaccio’s Dante and the Shaping Force of Satire, p. 14, p. 26. 178 The Poetry of Allusion: Virgil and Ovid in Dante’s Commedia, ed. by Rachel Jacoff and Jeffrey T. Schnapp (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991), p. 14.
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In contrast to theories of intertextuality that deny any agency on the part of the author, many studies of Dante’s influence accept the possibility of intentional allusions to Dante’s poem in subsequent texts. Lyne uses the theory of ‘poetic memory’ to bring the concepts of allusion, otherwise understood as ‘intentional appropriation and/or acknowledgement of another work’, together with the concept of intertextuality, which denies intent in favour of a ‘spontaneous interconnection’ between texts.179 He suggests using the terms ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality, with the former being intentional, and the latter automatic.180 These concepts do not need to confirm whether an author is intentionally interacting with a source as both can result in the transformation of and/or resistance to a source text, whether the connections are created or spontaneous.181 Lyne demonstrates that allusion and intertextuality, when viewed as ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality, are therefore able to coexist. This means that intentional references to Dante are possible but not required in order to study the potential impact of Purgatorio. Those texts with uncertain levels of Dantean engagement, such as the frescoes and altarpieces of chapters two and three, can thus be studied as ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality. The commentary and manuscript miniatures examined in chapter one, meanwhile, are derived explicitly from the Commedia and so have a different relationship to Dante. These texts are ostensibly dependent on Dante but can still profitably be thought of as texts in their own right. I will therefore view commentaries and manuscript miniatures as responses to Purgatorio, like the other works in the thesis. Moreover, instead of seeing Purgatorio as the sole influence upon these texts, as in a source studies approach, this thesis recognises that they are subject to numerous diverse influences. Although commentaries and manuscript miniatures were created to intentionally acknowledge Purgatorio, there is still uncertainty concerning individual intent and knowledge of Dante and so Lyne’s terminology can be used to describe these texts as ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality. While I will follow Lyne’s approach, as it accounts for the problem of establishing authorial intent, Dante scholars such as Rachel Jacoff and Jeffrey Schnapp offer a more detailed vocabulary for dealing with the concept of allusion in this thesis. Jacoff and Schnapp rely upon the authorial intention of Dante when analysing his nuanced
179 Lyne, p. 21. 180 Lyne, pp. 40-42. 181 Lyne, p. 42.
59 interaction with the literary works of Virgil and Ovid.182 While they focus on Dante’s engagement with his sources, I will apply a similar methodology to consider, conversely, how my chosen texts engage with Purgatorio. Jacoff and Schnapp suggest that if Dante’s allusions to other texts concur with their context and purpose in the original then they can be said to ‘function in a “neutral” manner’.183 While some scholars may consider this idea to represent a rather static imitation or quotation, I will not view these concepts as slavish copy or repetition, but rather as theories ‘not only of writing but also of reading as a performative act of criticism and interpretation’.184 This is because the very act of placing a quotation or motif in a different context serves to redefine its meaning, even if the letter of the text and its function remains unchanged.185 Jacoff and Schnapp contrast this ‘allusive neutrality’ with the fragmenting and rewriting of source texts.186 In this process, if the source being used is detached from its biographical and historical background then it can obtain a new significance that varies depending on the different contexts in which it is used. Jacoff and Schnapp describe this as a ‘multitiered synthesis’ or ‘layered engagement’ with the source text that adapts the source material for specific issues in the work.187 When the sources examined in this thesis engage in the process of dismantling and rewriting, elements of Purgatorio will therefore appear distanced from their original contexts. Simon Gilson argues that even writers with a considerable knowledge of Dante’s work often employed ‘a high degree of selectivity and adaptation to new contexts’ as they submitted Dante to ‘critical re- reading’.188 I will therefore examine how subsequent works give Dante’s text new meaning, whether by dispersing and reassembling his text, or by emulating the context and purpose of Purgatorio in a more neutral engagement with his poem. In this thesis, then, I will analyse the ways in which later texts appear to interact with Dante’s Purgatory, regardless of whether or not the structural or thematic influence of Purgatorio is explicit. I will use Jacoff and Schnapp’s terminology of allusion for the close analysis of the interrelationship between Dante’s Purgatorio and selected literary
182 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp. 183 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 11. 184 Intertextuality: Theories and Practices, ed. by Worton and Still, p. 7. 185 Intertextuality: Theories and Practices, ed. by Worton and Still, pp. 11-12. 186 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 11. 187 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9. 188 Gilson, Dante and Renaissance Florence, p. 11. This is made apparent in Giovanni Boccaccio’s Corbaccio, for example, where Armstrong shows that ‘Boccaccio favours a selective, accumulative, use of Dante, concentrating contextually appropriate (or comically inappropriate) allusions at certain points in his narratives’ (Armstrong, ‘Boccaccio and Dante’, p. 133, see also p. 136).
60 and visual representations of Purgatory, but it will be situated within, and coexist with, an intertextual and intermedial framework, as outlined by Lyne.
Chapter Outline This introduction has offered an important overview of my methodology and the theological background which forms the basis of this research. Situating Dante within this theological context allows for a deeper appreciation of the innovations found in his poem, as well as those found in the artistic and literary depictions examined later in this thesis. The above theological timeline will therefore underpin my source analysis and allow for comparisons to be made between developing theological, literary and artistic conceptualizations of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula. This thesis contains four chapters which each focus on a different type of literary or visual text. The chapters all revolve around the reception of both the geography and theology of Dante’s Purgatorio. The themes of landscape, transformation, punishment and prayer are central to the comparative analysis in each chapter. The first chapter will assess the initial response to Dante’s Purgatorio in the Italian peninsula, analysing early vernacular commentaries alongside representations of Dante’s middle realm in manuscript illuminations. I will compare the responses of both commentators and illuminators to selected episodes of Dante’s poem. The examination of the manuscript miniatures will concentrate particularly upon how the illuminators distinguish between Inferno and Purgatorio, through the representation of stasis and transition, and the entrances and exits of these realms. These visual features can tell us whether Dante’s conception of Purgatory as an autonomous realm of transition towards the divine was emulated by illuminators. The study of these distinguishing features will also be important for assessing the influence of Purgatorio upon later visual depictions in the following chapters. The source analysis from this chapter will help question how Dante’s conceptualization of Purgatory was initially viewed in relation to popular and theological understandings of the realm. The thesis will also evaluate to what extent this early reception of Purgatorio contributed to the later impact and influence of Dante’s second canticle. The second and third chapters will analyse the broader tradition of visual depictions of Purgatory in the medieval and early modern periods in order to assess whether Dante’s concept of Purgatory is evident in other genres of artwork in the Italian peninsula at this time. While the second chapter will provide an insight into how Purgatory was
61 represented in fresco, the third chapter will focus on altarpieces. The chapters will situate the direct responses to Purgatorio, examined in the manuscript miniatures in the first chapter, within the wider context of Purgatory’s growing visual representation. They will question whether these frescoes and altarpieces follow the visual language of Purgatorio’s manuscript illuminators and/or Dante’s portrayal of an independent Purgatory by analysing how the different realms of the afterlife are represented in relation to one another. As in the first chapter, the representation of exits and entrances will remain an important strand of analysis, alongside the comparison between the transitional movement of souls, inherent in Dante’s Purgatory, and a more static purgation. Following this examination, the thesis will be able to assess the ways in which the developing visual conceptualization of Purgatory responded to Dante’s Purgatorio. The fourth and final chapter will examine the treatment of Purgatory in Federico Frezzi’s Il Quadriregio (1394-1403), analysing the structural and thematic influence of Purgatorio upon these works in the context of prayer, landscape and transformation. By viewing Dante’s Purgatorio as part of the continuous representation of Purgatory in Italian vernacular literature, this chapter considers how subsequent literary representations receive Dante’s work whilst also contributing to a broader understanding of the depiction of Purgatory in literature. This analysis will be compared with that of the previous chapters. This comparative approach allows the thesis to consider the extent to which literary and visual representations of Purgatory engage with Dante’s Purgatorio, whilst also shedding light on the development of the doctrine of Purgatory and the relationship between literature and art in this period. The thesis is the first to examine the cultural impact of Dante’s Purgatorio in fourteenth to sixteenth-century Italy through the lens of the development of the doctrine of Purgatory. It employs a comparative and interdisciplinary methodology that is particularly innovative in its inclusion of Dante’s literary, artistic and theological reception, which have often been examined in isolation from one another. My focus upon the subsequent impact of Purgatorio, instead of the sources that influenced the work itself, which have been more widely studied by Dantists, enables Dante’s second canticle to be viewed as part of a continuum rather than as a culmination of preceding cultural traditions. This thesis therefore makes an important original contribution to our understanding of the doctrine of Purgatory and Dante’s role in its development during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.
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Chapter One: Textual and Visual Commentary on Dante’s Purgatorio
In this chapter, I will analyse the early critical reception of the Commedia alongside visual responses to the poem. I will focus specifically upon vernacular commentaries and manuscript miniatures of Purgatorio. Although they engage with different aspects of Dante’s text, I will analyse them alongside one another as they both provide their own distinctive form of commentary on Purgatorio. My combined approach will therefore offer an important point of comparison between Dante’s critical and visual reception. I will maintain that, whether consciously or not, the different interpretations of Purgatorio offered by the early commentators and illuminators examined here often attempted to legitimize many unique aspects of Dante’s middle realm, particularly concerning the portrayal of Purgatory as a hopeful realm of transition that was distinct from Hell. This analysis will also shed light upon how the lack of established doctrinal and visual traditions for Purgatory may have impacted the initial reception of Purgatorio. Investigating the normalization of Dante’s Purgatory as an independent realm in the commentary and manuscript miniature traditions will ultimately provide an important contextual background for the study of the later influence of the work in the context of the developing doctrine of Purgatory. It will also help question to what extent these traditions may have contributed to the subsequent influence of Purgatorio by offering an element of contrast between the early critical and visual reception studied in this chapter, and later visual and poetic representations of the realm, which will be studied in the subsequent chapters of this thesis.
I. The Response of the Early Vernacular Commentaries (1322-1568) to Dante’s Purgatorio When considering the reception of Dante’s Purgatorio in the context of the evolution of the concept of Purgatory it is first important to take into account the commentary tradition that followed the composition of the Commedia. The commentaries illustrate the initial textual response to Dante’s Purgatorio. As outlined in my introduction, I will view them as ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality.1 This use of Lyne’s terminology emphasises that, despite having a direct relation to Dante’s Purgatorio, the individual intent of the commentators is still uncertain and they remain subject to numerous
1 Lyne, pp. 40-42.
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influences. These texts will provide evidence of any development in the reactions to this cantica from commentators during the medieval and early Renaissance periods. I will examine commentaries to the Commedia written in the Italian vernacular from 1322 to 1568, which include the writings of Jacopo Alighieri (1322), Jacopo della Lana (1324- 28), L’Ottimo Commento (1333), Chiose cagliaritane (1370[?]), Francesco da Buti (1385-95), Chiose vernon (1390?), Anonimo Fiorentino (1400?), Cristoforo Landino (1481), Giovan Battista Gelli (1541-63), Trifon Gabriele (1525-41), Alessandro Vellutello (1544) and Bernardino Daniello (1547-68).2 This is not, however, a complete sample of known commentaries in this period, as it does not include those written in Latin or those that only examine Inferno.3 Whilst focusing purely on the vernacular commentaries in this chapter will not offer a comprehensive examination of the early commentators’ approach to Purgatory, it will permit a more detailed investigation of selected episodes in the text. As chapter four will also focus on examples from vernacular literature, the study of these particular commentaries will allow me to compare the influence of Purgatorio in Italian vernacular writing from medieval commentary and literary traditions. The commentary tradition in the centuries immediately following the composition of the Commedia has been studied frequently. However, as the commentaries were designed to provide detailed explanations of the whole of Dante’s poem, the broader question of the development of Purgatory is not taken into account by critical works. Alastair J. Minnis and Alexander Brian Scott discuss how the commentary tradition evolved between 1100-1375 and at the end of their study they examine commentaries to the Commedia, especially those of Guido da Pisa, Boccaccio and Petrarch.4 Simon
2 Although Torquato Tasso (1555-68) writes a commentary to Purgatorio in the vernacular within the time frame examined in this thesis, it has not been included as the explanations are sparse and often simply offer a translation. 3 I have excluded the following commentaries written in Latin and the vernacular as they only offer an exegesis of Inferno: Graziolo Bambaglioli (1324), Guido da Pisa (1327-28), Anonimo Selmiano (1337?), Guglielmo Maramauro (1369-73), Giovanni Boccaccio (1373-75), Filippo Villani (1405), Guiniforto delli Bargigi (1440), Pier Francesco Giambullari (1538-48), Benedetto Varchi (1545, Paradiso only), and Lodovico Castelvetro (1570). The following Latin commentaries have also been excluded from my sample: Anonymus Lombardus (1325?), Pietro Alighieri (1340-42), Codice Cassinese (1350-75?), Chiose Ambrosiane (1355?), Benvenuto da Imola (1375-80), and Johannis de Serravalle (1416-17). 4 Medieval Literary Theory and Criticism c.1100 - c.1375: The Commentary Tradition, ed. by Alastair J. Minnis and Alexander Brian Scott with the assistance of David Wallace (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988). For further studies on the early commentaries, see Steven Botterill, ‘The Trecento Commentaries on Dante’s Commedia’, in The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. by George Kennedy and others, 9 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990-2013), II: The Middle Ages, ed. by Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson (2005), 590–611; and Dante: The Critical Heritage, ed. by Michael Caesar (London: Routledge, 1989).
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Gilson, by contrast, focuses on Dante’s reception in Florence, including commentaries from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries as part of an examination of vernacular humanism, while Deborah Parker includes commentaries to the Commedia from later centuries in her research.5 Scholars such as Hollander and Martin Eisner analyse the specific role of Boccaccio for Dante’s reception.6 They focus on the manuscript history of Dante’s various works, highlighting Boccaccio’s role in diffusing and promoting them in the 1300s, as well as considering Boccaccio’s own literary responses to Dante. Zygmunt Barański, meanwhile, concentrates on several fourteenth-century commentators in detail, including the Epistle to Cangrande, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Guglielmo Maramauro and Benvenuto da Imola.7 He questions previous approaches to the study of the commentaries, arguing that these writings should be considered as a tradition in their own right, rather than simply as a means to help interpret the Commedia.8 I aim to follow Barański’s approach by focusing on the ways in which the commentators themselves portrayed and described Purgatory. In the analyses offered below, I outline a few examples of the commentaries’ engagement with Dante’s conception of Purgatory, demonstrating the ways in which commentators often attempted to authorize certain geographical and theological aspects of Dante’s innovative second realm that may have been seen as unusual or contentious.
Dantean Innovation (Introductions to Inferno and Purgatorio; Purg., I. 1-31, 109-36) In order to determine how Dante’s innovative concept of Purgatory was perceived, we can analyse how commentators respond to his middle cantica in their introductions to both Inferno and Purgatorio, as well as their writings on the opening cantos of Purgatorio. The commentators often produce a physical description of Dante’s Purgatory, contrasting it with Inferno by comparing light and darkness, angels and demons, and the state of the souls relating to virtue or vice. The commentaries do not highlight, however, that when compared to preceding representations it was quite unusual to have a place for Purgatory that was distinct from Hell. Alessandro Vellutello, for example, emphasises the somewhat unusual presence of angels in Purgatory, ‘et è il
5 See Gilson, Dante and Renaissance Florence; Interpreting Dante: Essays on the Traditions of Dante Commentary, ed. by Paola Nasti and Claudia Rossignoli (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013); and Deborah Parker, Commentary and Ideology: Dante in the Renaissance (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993). 6 See Introduction, n. 124. 7 Barański, ‘Chiosar con altro testo’. 8 Barański, ‘Chiosar con altro testo’, pp. 33-34.
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primo de gli altri ministri’, but chooses to respect and justify this unconventional feature of Dante’s realm, thereby downplaying its originality in separating Purgatory from Hell.9 As we shall see, this apparent refusal to recognize Dante’s innovations may have arisen because the commentators did not want to be accused of promoting unconventional and potentially unorthodox ideas about the theology and physical landscape of Purgatory. It seems that many of the concepts that Dante introduces as requirements for entry into his Purgatory, such as contrition and humility, were easily integrated into the commentators’ cultural and theological framework. This could suggest that these broader ideas about purgation were not especially rare, or that commentators simply wanted to present them as commonplace in order to authorize Dante. This lack of recognition for the unique nature of Dante’s Purgatory is also demonstrated by the relatively neutral approach of the commentaries to the presence of liturgy in Purgatorio. The inclusion of biblical song and prayer in Purgatory implies that this is a realm for the saved linked to the divine, a definition that had seldom been explicitly associated with Purgatory. This is not, however, acknowledged by the commentators, who continue to accept Dante’s unconventional inclusion of liturgical practice in Purgatorio. There are, however, a few passages on liturgy in the Commedia that did provoke debate. For example, on the terrace of Pride the penitent prideful chant Dante’s version of the Lord’s Prayer but explain that they do not pray for themselves, ‘ché non bisogna, |
ma per color che dietro a noi restaro’ (Purg., XI. 22-24). Early commentators do not examine why the souls in Purgatory do not require this prayer, nor do they mention that the depiction of souls in this realm praying for those on Earth was quite rare. Later commentators such as Alessandro Vellutello and Francesco da Buti, however, question why these souls in Purgatory would pray at all because, unlike those of the living, their own prayers cannot shorten their purgation. Buti highlights that the penitent souls cannot know or improve the state of mortals with their prayers, as they are not yet among the blessed in Paradise:
E sopra questa parte occorre uno dubbio; cioè come finge l’autore che quelle anime preghino per noi: conciossiacosach’elle non possano meritare, nè demeritare, nè
9 Alessandro Vellutello, Inf. and Purg. 1-10, Dante con l’esposizione di Cristoforo Landino et d’Alessandro Vellutello sopra la sua Comedia dell’Inferno, del Purgatorio & del Paradiso con Tavole, Argomenti, & Allegorie (Venice: Gio. Battista & Gio. Bernardo Sessa, 1596). Purg. 11-33 and Para. (Venice: F. Marcolini, 1544),
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sapere di nostro stato se non in quanto per grazia è revelato loro; cioè a quelli del purgatorio.10
Buti underlines, however, that these souls have perfect charity, which allows them to desire good for the living even if their prayers cannot obtain or enact this good for others: ‘sono in grazia di desiderare bene; ma non ottenere infine a tanto che non sono in paradiso’.11 Vellutello, meanwhile, concludes that because these souls lived in pride whilst on Earth it is right for them now to reject this sin in Purgatory by undertaking prayers of humility, the virtue that opposes pride.12 Although these commentators question the effectiveness of the souls’ prayers in Purgatory, they attempt to remove any doubt by finding an explanation to validate Dante’s inclusion of prayer in this middle realm. Despite an apparent general acceptance of the wider theological framework of Dante’s Purgatory, there is still a sense that the commentators are anxious to defuse and legitimize any conceivably unorthodox passages of the text. Indeed, the potentially problematic nature of Dante’s poem is suggested more explicitly when, for example, Francesco da Buti feels the need to protect himself from any accusation of heresy:
però ch’io ò a parlare di cose che s’appartengono alla nostra fede, dico e protesto ch’io non intendo, nè in questo, nè in altro dire alcuna cosa che sia contra la determinazione della santa madre Ecclesia catolica.13
The fear of being seen to deviate from Church teaching could therefore be one of the reasons that the commentators do not underline Dante’s originality in departing from previous representations of the realm of Purgatory in their introductions. Sometimes, however, the unique nature of Dante’s Purgatorio is actually accentuated by a commentator’s attempt to legitimise his text. For example, the Anonimo Fiorentino is the first of the vernacular commentators to mention that previous theologians did not know where Purgatory was situated:
che la mente dell’Auttore contempla salire in questo monte, avvegna che S. Agostino paja dubitare dove questo luogo sia; et alcuno dice che questo luogo di Purgatorio è monte Libano in Oriente, nella regione di Fenice, appresso a quelli di Media et di
10 Francesco da Buti, Commento di Francesco da Buti sopra la Divina commedia di Dante Allighieri, ed. by Crescentino Giannini (Pisa: Fratelli Nistri, 1858-62),
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Damasco: et S. Isidoro dice ch’è nell'altro emisperio, nella cui sommità è il Paradiso terrestre: et così sente questo Auttore.14
Of the many supposed locations of the Earthly Paradise, the commentary chooses to reference the Holy Land near the Lebanon Mountains, a mountain range that was often considered to be the source of the four rivers that flow through Eden. The commentator here also mentions St. Isidore who, alongside Bede, was responsible for popularizing the geographical aspect of the Earthly Paradise in his Etymologiae (c. 635).15 Isidore claimed that the Earthly Paradise was situated in a region of Asia in the East that was inaccessible to man as the Garden was surrounded by a wall of fire that reached almost to Heaven.16 Whilst Isidore did not mention Purgatory in his description, these features of his Earthly Paradise were widely known and, according to this commentary, are emulated in Dante’s Purgatorio.17 By outlining these differing ideas, the commentary is able to situate Dante’s Purgatory in the context of wider theological debate concerning the Christian afterlife. Whilst this serves to underline the originality of Dante’s creation, as the lack of theological consensus regarding Purgatory’s location is made clear, the fact that Dante is seen to follow the ideas of St. Isidore ensures that his Purgatory retains some orthodoxy and is located within a broader Christian tradition. This apparent need to justify Dante’s choice of geographical location for Purgatory is further demonstrated when the commentator cites the Dialogues of Saint Gregory:
Et questo si pruova per S. Gregorio nel Dicreto, dicendo: Questa vita, ciò è mondo, la quale è posta fra ’l cielo e lo ’nferno, siccome è nel mezzo, riceve i cittadini di ciascuna delle due parti, al quale luogo vanno l’anime di coloro i quali furono mezzanamente buoni 18
Here the commentator emphasizes Dante’s theological orthodoxy in situating Purgatorio in an intermediary and transitory position between Heaven and Hell. It also seeks to demonstrate that the type of souls who are able to enter Dante’s Purgatory fit into Saint
14 Commento alla Divina commedia d’Anonimo Fiorentino del secolo XIV, ed. by Pietro Fanfani (Bologna: G. Romagnoli, 1866-74)
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Gregory’s category of the ‘mezzanamente buoni’, although this can be seen as quite a reductive treatment of the category of souls found in Purgatorio. Indeed, the souls in Dante’s middle realm are not placed there because of their perceived level of righteousness, as this commentary suggests, but rather because they repented of their sins before death.19 Whilst the commentators’ allusion to the wider theological debate concerning Purgatory helps situate Purgatorio within a context that enables the originality of the realm to be accentuated, the Anonimo Fiorentino, like other commentators, still attempts to validate Dante’s geographical and theological decisions for his middle cantica, emphasizing his orthodoxy by citing authoritative theological texts at the expense of elucidating Dante’s own originality. The early commentators analysed here therefore do not necessarily seek to evaluate critically the innovations found in Purgatorio, as modern commentators often do, but rather highlight the ways in which Dante’s poem is theologically acceptable so that their audience could benefit from its moral lessons. The role of the commentator is thus heavily influenced by the religious and literary context in which they are writing.20
Reactions to Cato (Purg., I. 31-108) We can refer to the commentators’ reactions to the figure of Cato to shed light on how the unique theology of Dante’s Purgatorio and its distinction from Inferno, particularly concerning the issue of salvation, were viewed in relation to contemporary literary and theological understandings of Purgatory. Dante’s unusual decision to save Cato of Utica (95-46 BC), a pagan who was known to have committed suicide in order to avoid
19 Dante’s Commedia evidences a transition from the four categories of soul found in the afterlife as specified by Augustine, namely the damned, the not altogether wicked, the not altogether good, and the righteous, to a more fluid, tripartite categorisation of souls, see Le Goff, p. 69. 20 On medieval exegesis, see Judson Boyce Allen, The Ethical Poetic of the Later Middle Ages: A Decorum of Convenient Distinction (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), and The Friar as Critic: Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle Ages (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1971); Albert Russell Ascoli, Dante and the Making of a Modern Author (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008); John Dagenais, The Ethics of Reading in Manuscript Culture: Glossing the ‘Libro de buen amor’ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994); Vincent Gillespie, ‘The Study of Classical Authors: From the Twelfth Century to c.1450’, in The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. by George Kennedy and others, 9 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990-2013), II: The Middle Ages, ed. by Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson (2005), 145–235; Tristan Kay, Dante’s Lyric Redemption: Eros, Salvation, Vernacular Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 38-41; Medieval Literary Theory and Criticism c.1100–1375: The Commentary Tradition, ed. by Minnis and Scott; A. J. Minnis, Medieval Theory of Authorship: Scholastic Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle Ages (Aldershot: Wildwood house, 1984); Suzanne Reynolds, Medieval Reading: Grammar, Rhetoric and the Classical Text (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). On the works owned by the Florentine populace and their levels of literacy, see Bec, Les livres des florentins (1413-1608).
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surrendering himself to Julius Caesar, continues to divide and perplex modern scholarship.21 By contrast, the earliest commentators to discuss the first canto of Purgatorio, namely Jacopo della Lana (1324-28) and L’Ottimo Commento (1333), do not demonstrate any surprise at Dante’s appointment of Cato as the guardian of Purgatory. They instead claim that Cato is merely an allegory, representing a virtuous and diligent man, rather than the actual historical figure.22 This insistence upon allegory could suggest that these commentators did not wish to confront Cato’s radical salvation if it was intended to be literal.23 The Chiose cagliaritane (1370[?]) is the first of the vernacular commentaries to mention Cato’s lack of faith in the Christian God and, whilst the text does not signal that
21 On the controversial presence of Cato in Purgatorio, see Erich Auerbach, ‘Figura’, in Time, History, and Literature: Selected Essays of Erich Auerbach, ed. by James I. Porter, trans. by Jane O. Newman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), pp. 65-113; Robert Hollander, ‘Dante’s Cato Again’, in Dantean Dialogues: Engaging with the Legacy of Amilcare Iannucci, ed. by Maggie Kilgour and Elena Lombardi (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2013), pp. 66-124; Robert Hollander, ‘The Figural Density of Francesca, Ulysses, and Cato’, in Allegory in Dante’s Commedia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), pp. 104-35; and Robert Hollander, ‘Purgatorio II: Cato’s Rebuke and Dante’s scoglio’, Italica, 52 (1975), 348-63; Antonio Illiano, Sulle sponde del prepurgatorio: poesia e arte narrativa nel preludio all’ascesa (Purg. I-III 66) (Florence: Cadmo, 1997); Ernst Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957); Ronald L. Martinez, ‘Cato’, in The Dante Encyclopedia, ed. by Richard Lansing (New York: Garland, 2000), pp. 146-49; Giuseppe Mazzotta, ‘Opus restaurationis’, in Dante, Poet of the Desert: History and Allegory in the Divina Commedia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 14-65; Ezio Raimondi, ‘Rito e storia nel I canto del Purgatorio’, in Metaforo e storia: studi su Dante e Petrarca (Turin: Einaudi, 1972), pp. 65- 94; Edoardo Sanguineti, Dante reazionario (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1992); John A. Scott, ‘Cato, a Pagan Suicide in Purgatory’, in Dante’s Political Purgatory (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), pp. 69-84; G. Bàrberi Squarotti, ‘Ai piedi del monte: il prologo del Purgatorio’, in L’arte dell’interpretare: studi critici offerti a Giovanni Getto (Cuneo: L’Arciere, 1984). 22 See Jacopo della Lana, Comedia di Dante degli Allaghieri col commento di Jacopo della Lana bolognese, ed. by Luciano Scarabelli (Bologna: Tipografia Regia, 1866-67),
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there is anything unusual about this, the commentary does try and explain why Cato was appointed as a guardian of the penitent souls:
costui fu el forte giusto temperante prudente catone romano posto a guardare l’anime de purgatorio. per la grandissima prudencia. giusticia ch’elli ebbe benchè fu senza fede pone catone per santità de vita em purgatorio a questo uficio.24
The Chiose cagliaritane chooses to focus upon Cato’s admirable qualities in order to offer support for his authoritative presence here in Purgatory. The text also claims, by way of further explanation, that Cato was taken to Purgatory at the Harrowing of Hell: ‘quando christo trasse i santi padri de limbo de l’inferno alora ritrasse catone’.25 This suggests that Cato’s presence in Purgatory was perhaps contentious, although the issue is not addressed in relation to the implications for Purgatorio. Whilst the earliest commentaries do not seem to address the issue of Cato’s lack of faith, most of the later commentaries recognized the problem of placing a pagan in Purgatory, as Bernardino Daniello underlines: ‘inteso per Catone Uticense. s’affaticano molto molti, perche Dante habbia voluto poner Catone, non essendo egli stato Cristiano, ma Gentile, à guardia del Purgatorio’.26 However, they usually still viewed Cato as an allegory of liberty and ignored his implied salvation, perhaps in order to avoid any perceived deviation from accepted theological ideas concerning the damnation of pagans. Unlike previous commentators, Daniello does not attempt to avoid Dante’s suggestion that Cato will be reunited with his body at the Last Judgment, instead associating the freedom for which Cato took his own life with the freedom from sin that will be granted on that final day:
la qual libertà è si cara, come esso Catone sapeva, che per non morir servo, se medesimo uccise in Utica, ove dice haver lasciata la veste delle terrene membra, laqual al gran dì del universale giuditio, sara si chiara & lucente.27
Daniello does not insist, therefore, that Cato be perceived as an abstract concept of liberty, as had previously been the case. He instead cites the theologian Thomas Aquinas
24 Le chiose cagliaritane, ed. by Enrico Carrara (Città di Castello: Lapi, 1902),
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in order to justify how the historical Cato may have been saved:
Et ancor che il detto fosse Gentile, non dissona però dalla nostra religione, perche san Tomaso è di opinione che uno che sia visso bene, dato che non fosse battizzato in atto, ma però in voto si possa per gratia salvare [...] per questo il medesimo Poeta porrà nel Paradiso Rifeo Troiano.28
Even though divine grace is necessary for salvation, according to Aquinas, baptism is not, and this is the reason given by Daniello that Dante can also place Ripheus in Paradise. This comparison to the Trojan Ripheus who, like Cato, was also a pagan for whom there was no evidence that he had developed a faith in God, demonstrates that these characters posed a problem for commentators. However, in citing Aquinas, Daniello’s main aim ultimately appears to be to offset any shock the salvation of these characters may have provoked and to situate Dante’s poem clearly within the limits of orthodox Christian belief at the time. This is later seen when Daniello explains that Christ took Cato from Limbo to Purgatory at the Harrowing of Hell, and that consequently ‘egli non devesse esser più Gentile, ma Cristiano’.29 Every effort is made to assure the reader that Cato’s salvation is theologically sound and there is thus no suggestion that the requirements for entry in to Dante’s Purgatory are particularly distinctive. Although the commentators do not directly comment upon the innovative nature of Purgatorio in this passage, their different attempts at rationalizing Cato’s presence amongst the saved seem to suggest that Dante’s theology of salvation was not common in contemporary understandings of Purgatory at the time, and this could well have influenced their frequently restrained response to this figure.
Reactions to Manfred (Purg., III. 103-45) Dante’s salvation of Manfred, the violent and illegitimate son of Emperor Frederick II, excommunicated in 1258, also proves problematic for many commentators, who often seek to explain and defend the presence of this soul in Purgatorio. Whilst he was widely believed to be damned, according to Dante Manfred repented of his sins, turning to God in tears just before he died. In order to clarify the reasons for Manfred’s salvation, the early commentators draw upon Dante’s theology of Purgatory, which emphasized the mercy and grace of God available to anyone who repents of their sins. The salvation of
28 Daniello, (Purg., I. 31). 29 Daniello, (Purg., I. 88-90).
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souls in Purgatory was rarely certain in previous descriptions of the realm, which tended to amalgamate purgation and the punishment of the damned, and yet the commentators do not consider this lack of ambiguity in Dante’s Purgatorio, where every soul was completely assured of eventual salvation, to be unusual. The presence of the sinner Manfred amongst the elect, however, is a point of contention that forces the commentators to grapple with Dante’s conception of Purgatory and suggests that the theology of his middle realm was challenging previous ideas concerning the Christian afterlife and salvation. Jacopo della Lana, for example, suggests that Purgatorio diverges from accepted doctrine when he claims that Dante’s imposition of a thirty-year stay in Ante-Purgatory for every year that the soul was excommunicated on Earth is merely ‘licenzia poetica’.30 This idea is also repeated in L’Ottimo Commento, which states that Manfred is situated ‘in luogo fictive’, and in the commentary of Francesco da Buti, which describes Dante’s specific punishment length as ‘una bella finzione’ that is only employed to show the mercy of God.31 This indicates that for these commentators the literal sense of the
Commedia is here considered to be ‘bella menzogna’ (Convivio. II. i. 3), as they reject the literal reality of Dante’s poem in favour of a purely symbolic reading. Reading Dante according to this ‘twofold “allegory of the poets”, where a fictive literal sense is
accompanied by a subjacent moral allegory (cf. Conv., II. i.)’, was common in the medieval period but has been challenged by modern critics in relation to the Commedia.32 Indeed, Charles Singleton, Robert Hollander and Erich Auerbach have all argued that the Commedia can actually be read, and is intended to be read thus by Dante, according to the fourfold scheme that was applied to Scripture, whereby the literal sense
is true and not mere ‘bella menzogna’ (Conv., II. i. 3).33
30 Della Lana, (Purg., III. 136-39). 31 L’ottimo commento, (Purg., III. 139); Buti, (Purg., I. 133-41). 32 Albert Russell Ascoli, ‘Epistle to Cangrande’, in The Dante Encyclopedia, ed. by Richard Lansing (New York: Garland, 2000), p. 350. 33 These four modes of reading taken from biblical exegesis are the literal or historical sense, the allegorical sense (which refers to the life of Christ), the moral or tropological sense (which refers to how individuals should act or behave), and the anagogical sense (which refers to life after death). These are listed in the Epistle to Cangrande, which offers an introduction to the Commedia, and it has therefore been suggested, if the letter was indeed written by Dante, that he was encouraging a four-fold system of reading to be applied to the Commedia, thereby controversially associating his poem with Scripture. On the use of allegory and the four modes of reading in the Commedia, see Ascoli, ‘Epistle to Cangrande’, pp. 348-52; Erich Auerbach, Mimesis, trans. by Willard R. Trask, 2nd edn (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003); Robert Hollander, Allegory in Dante’s Commedia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969); Ronald Martinez, ‘Allegory’, in The Dante Encyclopedia, ed. by Richard Lansing (New York: Garland, 2000), pp. 24-34; Charles S. Singleton, Dante Studies 1. Commedia: Elements of Structure (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard
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The early commentators’ apparent rejection of Dante’s precise punishment lengths could also suggest that, despite the growing prominence of bookkeeping, where the time spent in Purgatory was carefully calculated according to the level of sin and the suffrages offered, there was actually very little consensus about the length of punishment merited by each sin.34 Indeed, Francesco da Buti does not know where Dante would have come across this idea for purging the excommunicate, thereby suggesting that Dante was creating his own theology that departed from accepted conceptions of Purgatory.35 Later commentators, however, appear to be more willing to accept and legitimize Dante’s decision concerning the length of time spent in Ante-Purgatory. Like many of the commentators, Buti focuses upon the mercy of God in this episode. He examines excommunication in detail, showing that it separates you from God’s grace, perhaps so that the text was not seen to be detracting from the power and authority of the Church:
A che debbiamo sapere che, chi è scomunicato dal papa o da’ soi vicari di maggiore scomunicazione, è fuora de la congregazione dei fideli cristiani, sicchè nulla orazione che si faccia per la Santa Chiesa e per li catolici, non inchiude lui; et è fuora de la grazia di Dio, mentre che sta lo scomunicato in sì fatta ribellione, e morendo in essa sarebbe dannato allo inferno; ma se ritorna a l’obedienzia innanti che muoia, ritorna ne la grazia di Dio.36
This reiteration of the Pope’s authority to excommunicate suggests that Manfred’s salvation challenged existing ideas concerning the fate of the excommunicate and the role of the Church in determining the place of souls in the afterlife. Despite the legitimacy of excommunication, Francesco da Buti underlines that anyone who turns back to God in time will be forgiven, regardless of whether they are excommunicate or not. He therefore seems to recognize the potentially subversive presence of Manfred in Purgatory and even goes on to say, ‘ma se lo re Manfredi ebbe questa contrizione a la fine, questo non sa se non Dio’.37 Whilst this could reflect some doubt concerning Dante’s conception of Purgatory, it is also a means of counteracting any objections
University Press, 1954); and Time, History, and Literature: Selected Essays of Erich Auerbach, ed. by James I. Porter, trans. by Jane O. Newman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), p. 88. On the allegorical interpretation of medieval vernacular literature, see Allen, The Friar as Critic: Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle Ages. 34 Le Goff, p. 227-28. 35 Buti, (Purg., I. 133-41). 36 Buti, (Purg., I. 133-41). 37 Buti, (Purg., I. 133-41).
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surrounding his decision to save Manfred. The figure of Manfred therefore remains a problem for commentators, who either seem to largely ignore that there is anything unusual about his presence in Purgatory at all, or who attempt to justify his salvation as an example to others of God’s infinite mercy. It is clear, therefore, that the commentaries do not stress the unique nature of Dante’s Purgatory in relation to previous theological and visionary conceptualizations of the realm. Indeed, these examples show that Purgatorio is largely analysed in isolation from the context of the development of Purgatory. Whilst it is acknowledged that some aspects of his creation could be seen to be different or potentially unorthodox, the commentators often attempt to justify Dante’s decisions with lengthy explanations or citations from authoritative theological and biblical texts. In this way, the commentaries neutralize the impact of Dante’s innovative representation of Purgatory. By constantly searching to legitimize Dante’s ideas, however, the commentaries give Purgatorio an authority and a stability that could ultimately have made it more acceptable for subsequent writers, artists and even theologians to emulate. In this sense, even though the reception of Purgatorio in the early commentary tradition does not illustrate the evolution of Purgatory we are analysing in this study, the fact that these vernacular commentators seem to accept and defend Dante’s creation could be extremely significant for the subsequent reception of the realm. By normalizing its originality, the commentaries could in fact contribute to the later influence of Dante’s unique second cantica.
II. Manuscript Miniatures of Purgatorio Like the commentaries, manuscript miniatures of Dante’s afterlife also often encouraged a specific interpretation of the poem, whether by following a particular commentator’s viewpoint or by depicting the personal reading of the illuminator or commissioner.38
38 Mazzucchi, pp. 405-07; p. 420; and Lucia Battaglia Ricci, ‘La tradizione figurata della Commedia: appunti per una storia’, Critica del testo, 14 (2011), 547-80 (pp. 564-65). For detailed analysis of specific manuscripts, see also Il manoscritto Egerton 943, ed. by Santagata; Lucia Battaglia Ricci, ‘La tradizione iconografica della Commedia’, in Dante e la fabbrica della Commedia, ed. by Alfredo Cottignoli, Donatino Domini and Giorgio Gruppioni (Ravenna: Longo, 2008), pp. 239-54; and Giulietta Chelazzi Dini, ‘Lorenzo Vecchietta, Priamo della Quercia, Nicola da Siena: nuove osservazioni sulla Divina commedia Yates Thompson 36’, in Jacopo della Quercia fra Gotico e Rinascimento: atti del convegno di studi, Siena, Facoltà di Lettre e Filosofia, 2-5 ottobre 1975, ed. by Giulietta Chelazzi (Florence: Centro di Firenze, 1977), pp. 203-28. For broader considerations of the Commedia miniatures, see Rosa Affatato, ‘Recensione: convegno internazionale ‘Dante visualizzato. Carte ridenti I: XIV secolo.’’, Dante e l’arte, 2 (2015), 277- 84,
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Lucia Battaglia Ricci and Andrea Mazzucchi have both drawn links between certain manuscript illuminations and a specific commentator’s interpretation of the Commedia, underlining that several visual representations of Dante’s afterlife were significantly influenced by the early commentators.39 Viewed from this perspective, these manuscript miniatures, like the commentaries, represent ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality, as there is intentional engagement with Dante’s Purgatorio.40 Although the miniatures do not contain the same detailed exegesis as the commentaries, I will argue that even images without an accompanying commentary were not always meant to be purely decorative and could therefore also have been designed to reflect and elicit a particular response to Dante’s poem.41 The significance of the illuminations as commentary has, however, been challenged by Rachel Owen, who claims that illuminators could not have been influenced by an individual reading of the Commedia or its commentaries as ‘the illustrator’s role was less to do with interpretation than with narrative representation using familiar models’.42 According to Owen, it is more likely that visual representations were influenced by the tradition of images of the Commedia that already existed, which the illuminator would have been more familiar with than the commentaries, as well as oral performances of the Commedia, and the mediation of the more literate scholars, scribes or commentators overseeing the work.43 Following Lyne’s methodology, however, we can still explore Dantean influence, regardless of whether the artist is intentionally engaging with Dante’s poem themselves.44 I will therefore argue that, even though the illuminators may not have had complete intellectual responsibility for the image they had been instructed to
considerazioni su alcuni frontespizi miniati della Commedia’, in Dante e le arti visive, ed. by Maria Monica Donato and others (Milan: Unicopli, 2006), pp. 109-48; Owen, pp. 163-225; and Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969). 39 Battaglia Ricci notes that many of the earliest illuminations of the Commedia from the second quarter of the fourteenth century mimic the ideas found in the commentary tradition, which initially focused upon the deeper allegorical or doctrinal meaning of Dante’s poem, but by the end of the 1400s attributed greater importance to the narrative of the pilgrim’s journey through the afterlife. Mazzucchi claims that visual representations returned to a moral and didactic reading of Dante’s poem from 1540 onwards, thereby suggesting, like Battaglia Ricci, that illuminations of the Commedia were influenced by the evolving trends of interpretation found in textual commentary. See Battaglia Ricci, ‘La tradizione figurata della Commedia: appunti per una storia’, p. 569; and Mazzucchi, p. 423. 40 Lyne, pp. 40-42. 41 Millard Meiss, ‘The Smiling Pages’, in Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), I, 31-80 (p. 34). 42 Owen, p. 178. 43 Owen, pp. 178-80. 44 Lyne, pp. 40-42.
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copy or create, the illuminations can still function as a form of commentary. Rather than analysing the influence of specific commentators upon manuscript miniatures, I will instead compare the ways in which these images represent the geography and theology of Purgatorio in relation to the text of Dante’s poem. I will examine whether Dante’s text is reformulated or simply imitated in these manuscript miniatures, in a ‘layered’ or ‘neutral’ engagement with Purgatorio.45 I will also consider how these images correspond to the general response found in the early vernacular commentary tradition for the same episodes. Analysing illuminations of Purgatorio alongside the commentary tradition in this chapter will consequently offer a broader and more comparative insight into the early critical and visual reception of Dante’s middle realm. Owen notes that there are over 500 fourteenth- and fifteenth-century illuminated manuscripts of the Commedia and, of these, 130 have miniatures at the start of each cantica, whilst 60 are more richly illuminated, with miniatures depicting numerous scenes throughout the poem.46 She explains that, in contrast to the manuscripts that only contain one illumination on the title page for each cantica, there was scope for a lot more detail in those with a miniature for every canto, although these extensive narrative cycles were rarely completed.47 Moreover, these more richly illuminated manuscripts varied as to whether they depicted either a single scene from the canto or numerous points along Dante’s journey in one frame, in what Owen describes as a ‘frieze format’.48 In contrast to Owen’s broader examination of the production of miniatures in the Dante manuscript tradition, I have chosen to compare and contrast three different illuminated manuscripts of the Commedia in detail, namely London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century); Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century); and London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450). These manuscripts originate from different areas of the Italian peninsula and were produced at different times during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Examining them alongside each other therefore allows a comparative analysis in terms of geographical location and time period when
45 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9, p. 11. 46 Owen, p. 163. 47 Owen, p. 165 and p. 168. 48 Owen, pp. 169-70.
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considering the developing representation of Purgatorio in the Italian peninsula. These manuscripts also vary in the number of miniatures of Purgatorio they contain in relation to the other cantiche. Whilst Egerton has 83 miniatures of Inferno, 107 of Purgatorio and 61 of Paradiso, and Holkham has 54 miniatures of Inferno, 56 of Purgatorio and 36 of Paradiso, Yates Thompson has 38 miniatures of Inferno, only 12 of Purgatorio and 62 of Paradiso. The number of images afforded to Purgatorio may indicate the differing levels of importance attributed to the realm by those creating these manuscripts and may also influence the scenes and elements depicted.
Patrons and Illuminators In order to compare the miniatures in these manuscripts more thoroughly it is worth considering the context in which they were produced. The Egerton manuscript was illuminated by the Master of Gherarduccio, otherwise known as the Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, who was probably active in Bologna and Padua in the first half of the 1300s.49 The patron of this manuscript and the reasons for its commission are, however, unclear. Due to a lack of surviving contemporary sources, and the collaborative way in which Egerton was produced, the dating of this manuscript has also proved problematic, with scholars suggesting various dates from the 1320s to the 1340s.50 The text of the poem is accompanied by the commentary of the so-called Anonimo Latino, who Chiara Ponchia claims is most likely to be two people, namely the Anonimo Lombardo, who wrote the commentary to Inferno and Purgatorio, and the Anonimo
Teologo, who finished the remaining commentary up to Paradiso XI.51 Ponchia shows that whilst the commentary to Inferno was written in the manuscript around the same time as the poem and then illuminated afterwards according to the usual procedure, the commentary to Purgatorio and Paradiso was added after the poem and the miniatures had been completed, as seen by the way the glosses fill the space around the decoration.52 The reversed order in which these tasks were carried out suggests that, whilst the Master of the Antiphonar of Padua may have been familiar with the
49 This illuminator was known as the Master of the Antiphonar of Padua because he decorated the six volumes of the Paduan Antifonario de nocte. However, Brieger and Meiss have observed that the sources of this style of manuscript are Bolognese, suggesting that this illuminator may have worked in Bologna as well as Padua. See Ponchia, p. 41; and Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 262. 50 Ponchia, pp. 42-44 and p. 46. For more details on the collaborative process of illuminated manuscript production, see Owen, pp. 164-65. 51 Ponchia, p. 40 and p. 44. 52 Ponchia, pp. 45-46.
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commentary tradition, his illuminations were probably not directly influenced by the commentary in the Egerton manuscript, at least for Purgatorio and Paradiso, as it was not yet present on the page when he carried out the illuminations for these two cantiche. The influence of a specific commentator is also not immediately apparent in Holkham, which does not contain the text of a commentary alongside the poem as in Egerton. Indeed, much less is known about this manuscript from the third quarter of the fourteenth century, as the identity of the manuscript’s patron and illuminator, and the reasons for its commission, are again uncertain. There is relatively little scholarship examining the Holkham manuscript, which according to the Bodleian Library originates from Genoa. Peter Brieger and Millard Meiss, however, underline the debate surrounding its provenance, citing stylistic elements which suggest it could originate from either southern Italy, as it resembles the miniatures in the Speculum Historiale by Vincent de Beauvais that was illuminated in the region around Cava de’ Tirreni, or from northern Italy, as the final miniature of Paradiso appears to show Dante presenting his book to Can Grande I.53 There is less confusion, however, surrounding the provenance of the Yates Thompson manuscript, as the illuminators are known to be Sienese. Brieger and Meiss argue that this mid-fifteenth-century Tuscan manuscript, which bears the Aragonese arms, was commissioned for King Alfonso I of Naples, who was an important patron of the arts during his reign over the kingdom from 1442-1458.54 Similarly to the Holkham codex, there is no commentary included alongside the text of the poem, suggesting that the manuscript was perhaps commissioned principally as a decorative item to impress the king.55 The importance of the patron and the decorative function of the manuscript could
53 Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 252. For scholarship assigning the provenance of this manuscript to Naples, see Emilio Pasquini, ‘Il “visible parlare” nell’Holkham 514, misc. 48’, in Dante und die bildenden Künste: Dialoge, Spiedelungen, Transformationen, ed. by Maria Antonietta Terzoli and Sebastian Schütze (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), pp. 101-117; Laura Pasquini, ‘Fra parole e immagini: il “visible parlare” nel manoscritto Holkham 514 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, misc. 48)’, in Dante und die bildenden Künste: Dialoge, Spiedelungen, Transformationen, ed. Maria Antonietta Terzoli and Sebastian Schütze (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), pp. 81-100; and Mario Rotili, I codici Danteschi miniati a Napoli (Naples: Libreria Scientifica Editrice, 1972). Also on the Holkham manuscript, see Laura Pasquini, ‘L’apparato illustrativo del Ms. Holkham, misc. 48, della Bodleian Library’, in Dante visualizzato: Carte Ridenti, 1: XIV secolo, ed. Marcello Ciccuto, Rossend Arqués i Corominas and Silvia Maddalo (Florence: Franco Cesati, 2017), pp. 237-57. 54 London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 1r. See Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 269. 55 Rachel Owen, however, argues that in Yates Thompson MS 36 the miniaturist for Paradiso, Giovanni di Paolo, was influenced by L’ottimo commento in his illuminations, see Owen, p. 178.
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therefore play an influential role in the choice of scene depicted and the style of illumination. Whilst Giovanni di Paolo was identified as the Sienese illuminator of Paradiso (c. 1450) by the scholar John Pope-Hennessy, there has been much debate as to who was responsible for the miniatures in Inferno and Purgatorio, as well as the historiated initials for each cantica. Pope-Hennessy suggested that it could be the Sienese painter and sculptor Lorenzo Vecchietta, but Brieger and Miess argue that it was actually Priamo della Quercia, another Sienese painter and miniaturist, although this attribution has also been disputed.56 If Priamo della Quercia was indeed the original miniaturist for this manuscript then Brieger and Meiss claim the illuminations to Inferno and Purgatorio can be dated between c. 1442 and 1450, which is much later than the other two manuscripts we are examining.57 These manuscripts were therefore produced in a range of distinct contexts, with different patrons and illuminators. They also vary in their date and provenance, and whether they include a commentary or not. These factors consequently provide useful points of comparison when analysing the developing representation of Purgatorio.
i. Geography of Purgatorio: Entrances and Exits Although the unique geographical nature of Dante’s Purgatory was rarely acknowledged in the written commentary tradition, the miniaturists of Purgatorio were unable to avoid the issue of landscape. However, even though the geography of Dante’s independent realm of Purgatory is clearly demarcated in the poem and its role as a temporary realm facilitating the journey of souls towards Paradise is made evident, some manuscripts still differed from the text, and from each other, in their illustrations of Purgatory’s geographical features. Ponchia explains that whilst the illuminators of Inferno were able to draw upon a large, well-established and diverse figurative tradition for Hell, Purgatory
56 See Giulietta Chelazzi Dini, ‘Lorenzo Vecchietta, Priamo della Quercia, Nicola da Siena: nuove osservazioni sulla Divina commedia Yates Thompson 36’, in Jacopo della Quercia fra Gotico e Rinascimento: atti del convegno di studi, Siena, Facoltà di Lettre e Filosofia, 2-5 ottobre 1975, ed. by Giulietta Chelazzi (Florence: Centro di Firenze, 1977), pp. 203-28; Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 270. 57 Brieger and Meiss suggest that Priamo della Quercia was originally commissioned to illuminate the entire work, as he also illuminated the first page of each cantica. However, they do not give a reason as to why Priamo della Quercia did not begin the illuminations for Paradiso, which Giovanni di Paolo undertook in c. 1450. Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 270.
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did not have the same influential tradition of visual representation.58 The lack of iconographic models for Purgatory meant that sometimes, as we shall see, the commissioners and illuminators who did not follow Dante’s text closely were instead influenced by the more established visualizations of Hell and the medieval visionary tradition in their interpretations of the topography of Purgatorio. It is thus important to recognise that a positive influence approach is relevant even for ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality, as many different influences are still at play in these manuscript miniatures.59 In this section, I will analyse how each of our three manuscripts presented a landscape for Purgatorio that was distinct from Inferno, focusing particularly upon the representation of entrances and exits. In the medieval and early modern periods, Purgatory rarely appeared as a separate realm in artistic representations of the Christian afterlife, which tended to simply include Hell and Paradise. In such bipartite depictions there was thus no spiritual or visual connection to be made between these two opposing realms, and if purgatorial punishment was implied it often took place within the confines of Hell. The representation of entrances and exits in these realms of the afterlife is therefore extremely important for understanding how the role of Purgatory was perceived. The location of purgatorial punishment in an infernal environment with no evidence of an escape implies that there is very little difference between Purgatory and Hell. The presence of an entrance, however, helps to distinguish Purgatory as an independent realm that is separate from Hell. If an exit is also depicted, it hints that Purgatory is a realm that enables transition and could therefore be seen to associate this middle realm with the onward journey to Paradise. As Dante’s creation of an entirely separate realm for Purgatory was quite a rare concept, this analysis of entrances and exits will also offer an important point of comparison with the later artistic depictions of Purgatory that will be examined in the following chapter.
The Exit from Hell
58 Ponchia, pp. 153-56. As well as geographical elements, this also affected representations of purgatorial punishment. However, in comparison to the extremely varied representation of the punishments of Inferno in manuscript miniatures, Ponchia shows that the illustrations of Purgatorio remain completely faithful to Dante’s text when depicting the punishment of the penitent on each terrace. This suggests that the lack of established purgatorial imagery may have encouraged a greater fidelity to Dante’s description of punishment in Purgatorio, as there were no other models to follow. 59 Baxandall, Patterns of Intention, p. 83; and Orr, pp. 84-85.
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I will firstly consider how the illuminators in the Egerton, Holkham and Yates Thompson manuscripts portray Dante’s exit from Hell in relation to the text of the Commedia in order to discover the ways in which they distinguish the two realms from one another at the points where they intersect. In an image from Egerton, the earliest manuscript we are examining, Dante and Virgil are shown in the bottom left to be leaving Inferno by grasping Lucifer’s legs, which are upside down and partially submerged in ice (Figure 1).
Figure 1. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 61v.
Dante and Virgil appear again in the same image but in the top right corner, seemingly having emerged from the dark underground tunnel that is the exit from Inferno.60 Their placement above the scene with Lucifer, alongside the strong red border, which only outlines this second half of the illumination, accentuates the shift from one realm to the other that has taken place. It also firmly establishes the idea of Inferno as a dark underground realm, further underlined by the jagged archway, which also acts as a border for many of the other illuminations of Inferno in this manuscript. By contrast, the blue background they emerge into suggests space and light in the new realm of Purgatory: ‘tanto ch’i’ vidi de le cose belle | che porta ’l ciel, per un pertugio tondo. | E
quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle’ (Purg., I. 137-39). Unlike the commentary tradition, which rarely explicitly underlined the distinct nature of Purgatorio when compared to Inferno, illuminations such as this followed Dante’s text by strongly accentuating the contrast between the physical environment of the two realms.
60 For a similar manuscript illumination see Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale, MS B.R. 39 (Lombard, c. 1400), fol. 141r, in ‘Inferno’, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), II, 39-326 (p. 325).
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This difference is also made clear in Holkham where Virgil is shown reaching out a hand to help Dante out of the black pit in the ground that represents the exit from Inferno (Figure 2).
Figure 2. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 54.61
The placement of the exit from Inferno on the left side of the image divides it in half, thereby emphasising the contrast between the dark, underground realm of Hell and the bright space attributed to Purgatory, where the stars are clearly depicted in the top right- hand corner. As in the Egerton manuscript, the difference between the two realms is portrayed through this spatial division of the image, alongside the contrasting colour scheme, which helps imbue the scene with a sense of transition. However, as opposed to the ‘frieze format’ employed in Egerton, where Dante and Virgil are pictured twice in order to convey their progression out of Inferno (Figure 1), here it is the portrayal of Virgil and Dante reaching for each other’s hands, and the empty space on the right-hand side of the image that waits to be occupied, which signifies the movement of the characters as they leave one realm and continue on to another.62 Unlike the previous two images we have examined, the initial illumination showing the pilgrim’s exit from Inferno in Yates Thompson depicts the inversion of Lucifer as Dante and Virgil climb him, alongside the arrival of the pilgrim in Purgatory, all in one continuous image (Figure 3), following the ‘frieze format’ outlined by Owen.63
61 The use of page numbers, as opposed to folio numbers, reflects the pagination of the Holkham manuscript. 62 Owen, p. 170. 63 Owen, p. 170.
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Figure 3. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 62v.
As in Egerton, Dante and Virgil are depicted several times in the image in order to further portray this sense of transition and movement as the events unfold. Given the violent and slightly chaotic scene they must negotiate in Inferno, the movement of Virgil and Dante towards Purgatory is almost portrayed as a desperate escape here. The exit from Hell is represented as a dark cave from which it is Virgil who emerges this time, as opposed to Dante who is helped out in the Holkham manuscript. Virgil is bent down in the cave, giving the sense that he is emerging from an enclosed and suffocating space. This is contrasted with Dante’s serene gaze up towards the stars, which are visible again in the top right of the image against a blue background. Whilst the comparatively calm atmosphere of Purgatory is not as clearly visible in this image, given that the full horror of Lucifer biting Cassius, Judas and Brutus in each of his three mouths dominates the scene, the fact that the two realms are directly juxtaposed within the same image means that a stark contrast is nonetheless evident. There is thus a clear separation and differentiation between the realms of Hell and Purgatory in these three illuminations. Whilst the realms are portrayed within the same image, they are not amalgamated together and their depiction side by side actually serves further to distinguish them from one another. None of the illuminators choose to infernalize Purgatorio in these images, thereby legitimizing Dante’s idea of a separate and more heavenly middle realm. Whilst the geography of Purgatorio is hard to define in these initial images, all three follow Dante’s text in portraying a light realm above ground, whether by representing the stars or physically placing the characters above those in Inferno.64 The idea of transition is also inherent in these images, which are
64 Regarding the geography of Purgatorio, there are a few manuscripts, namely Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, MS Strozziano 152 (Florentine, c. 1335-45), fol. 30r, and London, British Museum,
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concerned to show the movement from Hell to Purgatory, and the movement through Purgatory itself in the case of Holkham, and which all appear at this stage to distinguish Purgatorio as a more hopeful realm than Inferno. This suggests that the artists are employing an element of ‘allusive neutrality’ in their engagement with Dante’s text, as they seek to preserve essential features of his realm.65
Arrival in Ante-Purgatory The arrival of the souls in Ante-Purgatory offers another important point of contrast between Hell and Purgatory in the illuminations. At the beginning of Purgatorio in Egerton Dante is depicted on a dark ship that appears to be rocking in an equally dark sea, giving the sense that Purgatory is located far away from Hell and that the journey is a dangerous one (Figure 4).
Figure 4. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 63r.
Additional MS 19587 (Neopolitan, c. 1370), fol. 60r which depict a mountain that Dante and Virgil climb to leave Inferno, rather than portraying them emerging from a dark funnel; see Peter Brieger, ‘Analysis of the Illustrations by Canto’, in Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), I, 115-208 (p. 157) and ‘Inferno’, in Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), II, 39-326 (p. 326). Moreover, in Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, MS lat. 4776 (Florentine, c. 1390-1400), fol. 120r Virgil and Dante stand in a mountainous landscape with stars filling the sky above in an image that is completely separate from the preceding depictions of Lucifer, thereby emphasizing the geographical specificity of this middle realm; see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 321. 65 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 11.
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The dark and ominous colour scheme, alongside the angle and implied movement of the ship’s mast, evokes Ulysses’ failed voyage, recounted in Inferno, when the ship was ultimately wrecked in the water when attempting to reach Mount Purgatory. In this dramatic image, the illuminator chooses to visualize the metaphor with which Dante opens Purgatorio, depicting ‘la navicella del mio ingegno’ (Purg., I. 2) as a literal ship. However, the representation of Dante writing, both on board the ship and at a desk in the separate historiated initial below, as well as the absence of Virgil, hint that this image is not directly part of the journey narrative of Dante pilgrim. It instead serves to highlight that it is Dante’s journey, as both writer and pilgrim, that is being recounted here. At the bottom of the same page, Dante and Virgil are shown meeting Cato at the foot of Mount Purgatory. The archways in the background are smooth and symmetrical, unlike the jagged arches that outlined the illustrations of Inferno, whilst the golden background is juxtaposed against the darkness of the ship above, suggesting that Purgatorio is a serene and holy realm. This contrast in colour is used in the illuminations to differentiate between the souls’ point of departure and arrival at the shore of Mount Purgatory, with the brown rocks situated at the base of Figure 5 perhaps representing the world at Ostia that the souls have now left, and the blue landscape at the top representing the otherworldly realm of Purgatory.
Figure 5. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 65r.
This rocky terrain in blue and brown, alongside a skyline that appears to have been decorated with gold leaf in Figure 6, hints at both the earthly and divine aspects of this realm. These colours contrast greatly with the much darker backgrounds to Inferno and
86 demonstrate how the illuminator has created a completely different visual environment for Purgatory.
Figure 6. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 65v.
This distinction is also emphasized by the placement of Dante and Virgil in the right- hand corner (Figures 5 and 6), which shifts the focus onto the clothed souls in the boat, who are mainly shown looking calmly ahead, as opposed to the arrival to Inferno in this manuscript (Figure 7) where the souls are not depicted in Charon’s boat at all but are instead shown looking in different directions as they wait naked on the shore to be collected.
Figure 7. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 7v.
The souls in Inferno are therefore depicted in a more static, vulnerable and confused state than those moving purposefully towards the shore of Purgatory. The onward gaze of the saved souls is a key characteristic of Dante’s theology of Purgatory and is most clearly demonstrated by the angel’s exhortation that Dante and Virgil should not look back as
87 they pass through the Gate of Purgatory: ‘“Intrate; ma facciovi accorti | che di fuor torna chi ‘n dietro si guata”’ (Purg., IX. 131-32). The illuminator therefore depicts a realm that is both geographically and spiritually distinct from Inferno. In contrast to depictions of the arrival in Purgatorio in other manuscripts, in Holkham (Figure 8) the terrain of Purgatory is not initially presented as very mountainous, presumably as in the poem the souls are still at the base of the mountain: ‘Questa isoletta intorno ad imo ad imo, | là giù colà dove la batte l’onda, | porta di giunchi sovra ’l molle limo’ (Purg., I. 100-02).
Figure 8. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 59.
The illuminator here chooses to depict the angel departing, having already deposited the souls on the shore of Mount Purgatory, where they are pictured in conversation with Dante and Virgil. Consequently, the exact entry point to Purgatory is not depicted and the central focus appears to be the figures encountered in the narrative, rather than the topography of the new realm that Dante and Virgil are entering. This character focus is emphasized by the front-facing depiction of the angel, alone in the boat, which reinforces the significance of his presence in Purgatory as theologically distinct from the devils that governed Inferno: ‘omai vedrai di sì fatti officiali’ (Purg., II. 30). The layout of this image of the angel also appears to stand in direct counterpoint to the image of Charon at the start of Inferno in this manuscript (Figure 9), who is similarly pictured alone in his boat in the centre of the illustration.
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Figure 9. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 5.
Indeed, Brieger shows that illuminators often created direct parallels between these two arrival scenes, as the sea in Purgatorio was often portrayed in a similar way to the river Acheron and the angel sometimes holds an oar like Charon’s, despite not having one in Dante’s text: ‘Vedi che sdegna li argoment umani, | sì che remo non vuol, né altro velo |
che l’ali sue, tra liti sì lontani’ (Purg., II. 31-33).66 Whilst these visual connections could be seen as a means of deliberately linking the realms of Hell and Purgatory together, the similarities could also suggest that the commissioners and designers of these images were not immediately familiar with the text of Dante’s Commedia and were instead simply relying upon existing visual motifs to depict this scene of arrival in the afterlife, whether influenced by earlier illuminations of the Commedia or by general depictions of the afterlife. Yates Thompson, like Egerton, portrays Dante’s metaphor of ‘la navicella del mio
ingegno’ (Purg., I. 2) at the start of Purgatorio, although here the golden sky and calm water suggest a safer journey towards a more hopeful land (Figure 10).
66 Peter Brieger, ‘Analysis of the Illustrations by Canto’, in Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), I, 115-208 (p. 159). Manuscripts with illuminations where the angel on the boat is pictured holding an oar include Budapest, University Library, MS 33 (Venetian, c.1345), fol. 30r; and Modena, Biblioteca Estense, MS R.4.8 (It. 474; VIII.G.6) (Emilian, early fifteenth century), fol. 50v.
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Figure 10. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 65r.
Priamo’s depiction also does not hint at the metaphorical nature of the image, like Egerton, and instead appears to be part of the narration, showing Dante actively involved in sailing rather than writing on board the ship. The position of this image within a historiated initial, however, reduces its significance for the main visual narrative. By depicting this metaphorical image at the beginning of Purgatorio the illuminator avoids portraying the exact location of the exit from Hell and the entrance to Purgatory in relation to one another. While this decision could be due to restricted space in the manuscript, it may also arise from the lack of precision concerning the location and function of Dante’s ‘pre-ante-purgatory’ at Ostia, where the souls wait to leave for Mount Purgatory. 67 Indeed, none of the manuscripts examined here clearly illustrate the
place ‘dove l’acqua di Tevero s’insala’ (Purg., II. 101), thereby demonstrating that this section of Purgatorio was largely neglected in both textual and visual commentary, probably because of its brief and obscure mention in Dante’s poem. Instead, the following image in Yates Thompson places the souls’ journey to Mount Purgatory between two separate scenes, both set within the landscape of Purgatorio (Figure 11). The use of the ‘frieze format’, where Dante and Virgil are positioned on both sides of the water, allows for a greater sense of continuity between Dante’s encounter with Cato, pictured on the left, and then Casella on the right.
67 On ‘pre-ante-purgatory’ see Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 45.
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Figure 11. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 68r.
The angel, whose clothing is decorated in glinting gold, reinforcing the presence of divine beauty in this realm, is shown ferrying a soul across the calm water towards the shore and therefore acts as a link between the episodes, encouraging the viewer to follow the onward voyage; a continuity that is slightly lost in Holkham (Figure 8) as the angel is pictured leaving the realm. The parallels between this scene and the arrival to Inferno are less pronounced in this manuscript as, instead of one boat ferrying souls across the water to Mount Purgatory, in Inferno Charon is pictured three times (Figure 12). As in Dante’s text, this gives the sense that there are many more souls to be collected, ‘Così sen vanno su per l’onda bruna, | e avanti che sien di là discese, | anche di qua nuova schiera s’auna’ (Inf., III. 118- 20), suggesting the ease of entering Hell, as opposed to the more difficult, and thus less travelled, journey required to enter Dante’s Purgatory.
Figure 12. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 6r.
The colour scheme in Figure 12 is dark and ominous and the water appears rough and choppy. In contrast to the fiery sky of Inferno, the sky of Purgatory in Figure 11 is a deep blue with golden stars and white clouds, creating a bright, open space that evokes the
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Earth’s sky. There is also a greater sense of the vast purgatorial landscape here than in Egerton and Holkham, as can be seen by the sheer size of the mountains.68 The topographical specificity of Purgatory is thus contrasted with Inferno in this manuscript. Priamo appears to be the first illuminator to represent architecture as well as geographical elements at the entrance to this realm, where a large gate and wall of grey stone serves further to separate Purgatorio from Inferno (Figure 11). Brieger suggests that Priamo may have wanted to imitate the Gate of Hell, or that of Rome, which was not only close to the ‘pre-ante-purgatory’ at Ostia where the souls would be collected but was also where Cato lived.69 Indeed, this portrayal of quite a formal entrance to the realm is not described by Dante at this point in the narrative and thus demonstrates, regardless of whether the gate was meant to be directly juxtaposed against that of Hell, or associated with the liberty of Cato and the justice of Rome, that Priamo chose to impose a physical barrier in order to identify Purgatory as an independent realm. The realms were not always so distinct, however, and it is therefore worth briefly considering the representation of the arrival of the angel and souls in Purgatorio found in Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS. 3285.70 This Florentine manuscript of the Commedia dates from the first half of the fourteenth century, possibly as early as 1330-33.71 It has illuminations on the opening page of each cantica, including marginalia and illuminated initials, as well as a more detailed miniature for both Purgatorio and Paradiso.72 These illuminations have been attributed to the Maestro delle Effigi Domenicane, a Florentine miniaturist who was active between c. 1328-50.73 The mountain on the right margin of
68 In the illuminations found in Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, MS Strozziano 152 (Florentine, c. 1335- 45), fol. 32r, and London, British Museum, Additional MS 19587 (Neopolitan, c. 1370), fol. 63r, when Dante and Virgil arrive in Purgatory the penitent souls are depicted in front of the mountain so that they appear to actually be within it, see ‘Purgatorio’, in Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, ed. by Peter Brieger, Millard Meiss and Charles S. Singleton, 2 vols (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), II, 329-422 (p. 333). Another interesting depiction of Mount Purgatory is found in Padua, Biblioteca del Seminario 67 (Paduan, early fifteenth century), fol. 107r, where Dante and Virgil meet Cato who stands by a mountain topped with trees representing the Earthly Paradise, see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 331. Whilst the first two manuscripts we have analysed do not portray the whole mountain as Dante and Virgil arrive, there are many examples where this is the case and Mount Purgatory is clearly distinguished. 69 Brieger, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 159. 70 Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS 3285, fol. 31r, in Ponchia, Frammenti dell’aldilà. 71 Angelo Eugenio Mecca, ‘Il colorito linguistico della “Commedia”. Una questione da riaprire?’, Carte Romanze, 5 (2017), 105-24 (p. 120); and Francesca Pasut, ‘Nell’antica vulgata fiorentina. Due varianti miniate della Commedia dantesca’, Libri e documenti, 40 (2014), 261-74. 72 See Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS 3285, fol.1r (Inferno), fol. 31r (Purgatorio), and fol. 61r (Paradiso). 73 On the Maestro delle Effigi Domenicane, see Laurence Kanter, ‘Master of the Dominican Effigies’, in Painting and illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 1300- 1450, ed. by Laurence Kanter and others (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1994), pp. 56-57; Francesca Pasut, ‘Codici miniati della
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the opening page of Dante’s second cantica is unique amongst miniatures of Purgatorio in that it has three openings where souls can be seen submerged in fire as they undergo purgation.74 Whilst the middle soul is in a position of prayer, there is a distinctly infernal association, especially as one soul is upside down in the flames. Ponchia notes that these fiery openings in the mountain appear to have been influenced by the representation of St. Patrick’s Purgatory in the Todi fresco (1346-49), rather than the text of Dante’s poem.75 Indeed, the inclusion of violent, fiery punishment at the arrival to Ante- Purgatory is not found in Dante’s poem, which only mentions fire on the terrace of the lustful near the top of Mount Purgatory: ‘Quivi la ripa fiamma in fuor balestra’ (Purg.,
XXV. 112).76 This focus upon punishment by fire is also emphasized by the fact that, instead of a historiated initial depicting Dante on a ship as we have seen at the start of Purgatorio in other manuscripts, here there is a soul half-submerged in flames with his hands held in a position of prayer. Although the prayerful gesture does distinguish this punishment from that of Inferno, the emphasis upon fiery torment at the opening to this realm associates it much more closely with Hell than the other representations we have seen, thereby demonstrating the impact of medieval visionary conceptualizations of Purgatory upon the illustration of Dante’s Purgatorio. Even though our three manuscripts encourage a direct contrast with the portrayal of the entrance to Inferno, suggesting that the viewer of these images would perceive Purgatory as both geographically and theologically separate from Hell, the Parma manuscript demonstrates that the amalgamation of the two realms, prevalent in visionary literature, remained influential even in visual representations of Dante’s poem. Despite being influenced by a different model, the inclusion of this illumination alongside Dante’s text can still be considered a form of commentary. However, here the illuminator simply chooses to respond to Purgatorio by ignoring many of its unique aspects, in what
Commedia a Firenze attorno al 1330’, Rivista di Studi Danteschi, 6 (2006), 379-409; and Ponchia, Frammenti dell’aldilà. Some scholars instead attribute these illuminations to the Maestro del Biadaiolo, see Brieger and Meiss, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 322; and Luisa Miglio, ‘Dante Alighieri. Manoscritti miniati’, in Enciclopedia dell’Arte Medievale, 12 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991-2002), V (1994), 627-35 (p. 629). Others consider the Maestro delle Effigi Domenicane and the Maestro del Biadaiolo to be the same person, see Laurence Kanter, ‘Maestro delle Effigi Domenicane’, in Dizionario biografico dei miniatori italiani. Secoli IX-XVI, ed. by Milvia Bollati and Miklós Boskovits (Milan: Bonnard, 2004), pp. 560-562. 74 Ponchia, p. 151. 75 Ponchia, pp. 151-52. 76 For the argument that these souls cannot simply represent the lustful, see Ponchia, pp. 151-52.
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can be seen as a ‘layered engagement’ with the text.77 Thus, whilst the arrival of the angel and souls at the entrance to Purgatory was described in comparative detail by Dante, the illuminators of these manuscripts each offer distinct representations of this scene.
The Gates of Purgatory The illuminators also depict the arrival of Dante and Virgil at the gate to Purgatory proper in canto IX in different ways: ‘là dove pareami prima rotto, | pur come un fesso
che muro diparte, | vidi una porta,’ (Purg., IX. 74-76). In Egerton, the architecture of the gate of Purgatory, illustrated in three separate images (Figures 13 and 14), is tall and narrow and very similar to that of the gate of Dis in the same manuscript.78 This resemblance is strengthened by the fact that these two gates are both described in canto IX of Inferno and Purgatorio, demonstrating a vertical connection.
Figure 13. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79r.
77 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9. On the changing interpretation of Dante’s text in manuscript miniatures, see also Fugelso pp. 275-76, p. 281. 78 In the first image Dante and Virgil reach the angel who is sitting before the gate; in the second the angel is shown tracing the seven ‘P’s’ on to Dante’s forehead; and in the third the angel unlocks the gate to Purgatory proper. See London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79r and fol. 79v. See also Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 353; and
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Figure 14. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79v.
The walls of Purgatory in Egerton are also reminiscent of those surrounding the City of Dis in Inferno. The similarity between the two gates with the adjoining walls simultaneously imbues Purgatory with the same status as Hell, legitimizing it as an independent realm of the tripartite afterlife that only accepts certain souls through its gates, whilst also offering a direct contrast with the entrance to Dis.79 The presence of the angel is particularly important in this respect as, rather than waiting for the heavenly messenger to open the gate of Dis, here, as in the poem, the angel is already waiting to
allow Dante and Virgil to enter Purgatory: ‘vidil seder sovra ’l grado sovrano’ (Purg., IX. 80). The fact that the angel is later pictured unlocking the gate (Figure 14) emphasizes the importance of this moment of transition into Purgatory proper, in contrast to the relatively static realm of Hell. As opposed to the three separate images found in Egerton, the Holkham manuscript includes the image of an angel inscribing the seven ‘P’s’ on Dante’s forehead alongside Dante and Virgil entering Purgatory proper (Figure 15).
79 On the parallels between the ninth cantos, see Zygmunt G. Barański, ‘Without any Violence’, in Vertical Readings in Dante’s Comedy, ed. by George Corbett and Heather Webb, 2 vols (Cambridge: Open Book Publishers, 2015-16), I (2015), 181-202 (p. 183).
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Figure 15. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 74.
Unlike Egerton, Dante is shown passing through the gate itself, emphasizing the importance of crossing this barrier, whilst Virgil is already on the other side in Purgatory proper. The landscape is very rocky and, as Brieger notes, this is the only manuscript illumination where the gate is actually set within the rock, as specified by Dante, rather than as part of a constructed wall: ‘vedi là il balzo che ‘l chiude dintorno; | vedi l’entrata
là ’ve par digiunto’ (Purg., IX. 50-51).80 Furthermore, the representation of the gate of Purgatory bears no resemblance to the flaming gate and tower of Dis depicted earlier in the manuscript; the illuminator does not therefore encourage the viewer to draw any parallels between the two entrances in this instance.81 As in Egerton, the gate to Purgatory proper in Yates Thompson (Figure 16) is similar in structure to that of the City of Dis, which also resembles the gate and walls pictured at the arrival to Ante-Purgatory.
Figure 16. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 84r.
80 Brieger, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 165. 81 Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 14.
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The gate of Purgatory, however, is not so stark and imposing as that of Dis, especially as it is shown to be open rather than closed. The positioning of the gate to Purgatory also allows the viewer to visualize the characters as they pass through, creating seamless movement between Ante-Purgatory and Purgatory proper in a single image. This transition is further emphasized by the scenery, which changes as Dante moves from the landscape of his dream on the left, where the starry sky dominates, to the mountainous backdrop on the terrace of the proud on the right.82 The proud are shown carrying heavy boulders but the marble carvings depicting the exemplars of humility, which Dante is meant to see first, are not shown. Indeed, the exemplars of virtue, which were vital in distinguishing between the punishments of Hell and Purgatory, are never portrayed in this manuscript. Moreover, Dante is seen in conversation with one of the prideful, possibly Oderisi da Gubbio, but he is not portrayed bending down to speak to him, as in the poem, ‘Ascoltando chinai in giù la faccia’
(Purg., XI. 73), and Dante’s personal association with the sin of pride is therefore not acknowledged. The illuminator therefore appears to dismantle and reformulate Dante’s text for his own purpose, choosing to emphasize the souls’ punishment in this image and throughout Purgatorio. This means that the contrast with Inferno must be found in other aspects of his illumination. One possible explanation for this focus upon the punishment of sinners could be the influence of the Council of Ferrara-Florence, which had taken place in 1438-39, just before the illumination of Yates Thompson began in 1442. The Council sought to define Purgatory in opposition to the Greeks, who rejected the Latins’ emphasis upon divinely inspired justice and punishment in Purgatory. The Greeks instead proposed a form of spiritual rather than physical suffering in the middle state, which was self-inflicted. The centrality of punishment in Yates Thompson could therefore be seen as a means of reinforcing the Latin belief in purgatorial punishment. All three manuscripts choose to depict the gate to Purgatory, demonstrating its importance for the visual narrative and commentary on this realm. In Egerton and Yates Thompson there are clear similarities between the gates of Purgatory proper, Ante-
82 Peter Brieger claims that the standard representation of this scene, where the angel is usually pictured at the gate with a sword inscribing the seven ‘P’s’ before opening the gate, is slightly altered in only two fifteenth-century manuscripts: Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, MS BR 39 and Yates Thompson MS 36. In Yates Thompson Dante is depicted four times; sleeping, being carried by the eagle in his dream, kneeling before the angel at the gate of Purgatory and arriving on the other side in Purgatory proper where, unusually, the proud from the next canto are shown bent under the weight of the boulders they carry. See Brieger, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, I, 165; and London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-50), fol. 84r.
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Purgatory in the case of Yates Thompson, and the City of Dis. However, evoking these similarities, which arguably legitimize Purgatory as a separate realm of the afterlife like Hell, also permits a more direct juxtaposition between the entrances of the two realms. Whilst these two manuscripts portray a seemingly manmade architecture for their gates and walls, Holkham presents a more natural, rocky landscape that acts as the wall to Purgatory and is more in keeping with Dante’s text. These architectural differences highlight the numerous ways in which the entrance to Purgatory was perceived in manuscript illumination, demonstrating a ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio. These differences also imply that there was no established visual tradition concerning the location and appearance of Purgatory’s entrance for the illuminators to draw upon in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries.
Leaving Purgatory: Fire and Water As the physical exit from Purgatorio is not specified in the poem, it is not depicted with the same clarity as that from Inferno in these illuminated manuscripts. Indeed, the barriers of fire and water that respectively separate Purgatory proper from the Earthly Paradise, and the Earthly Paradise from Paradiso, are accorded different levels of significance in each of the three manuscripts we are examining. Egerton is the only one of our manuscripts that depicts Dante in the act of crossing the barriers of both fire and water as he approaches the end of his journey through Purgatory.83
Figure 17. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 112r.
83 MS Egerton 943 is quite unusual in showing the pilgrim covered by fire as he passes through. Whilst Venice, Biblioteca Marciana MS it.IX.276 (Venetian and Veneto, late fourteenth century), fol. 46r shows Dante walking through the flames, they do not surround him, thereby emphasizing that they do not burn him in the same way as they do the lustful. In many other manuscripts Dante and Virgil simply observe the lustful in the flames from a distance, as in Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, MS 8530 (Italian, mid- fourteenth century), fol. 105r; and Modena, Biblioteca Estense, MS R.4.8 (It. 474; VIII.G.6) (Emilian, early fifteenth century), fol. 81r: see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 399-403.
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Figure 18. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 126r.
The positioning of the characters, whether engulfed by vibrant red flames on the terrace of the lustful (Figure 17) or immersed in the water of the Eunoe (Figure 18), emphasizes forward movement and, in the case of Egerton’s final illumination of Purgatorio, places the viewer in the same position as Statius and Dante as they prepare to make their transition into Paradiso. Whilst Holkham does not show the terrace of the lustful, which was quite unusual given that fire was one of the few characteristics of Purgatory that was consistently present in many medieval visionary and theological conceptualizations at the time, the illuminator still retains the importance of the transition to Paradise that Dante’s Purgatory allows by depicting the crossing of the Eunoe river in detail (Figure 19).84
Figure 19. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 111.
84 For similar images of the rivers of the Earthly Paradise, see New York, The Pierpont Morgan Library, MS 676 (Italian, late fourteenth century), fol. 89v; and Venice, Biblioteca Marciana MS it.IX.276 (Venetian and Veneto, late fourteenth century), fol. 53r: see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 421-22.
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Figure 20. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 112.
The gestures of the figures in the final image of Purgatorio in Holkham all emphasize the importance of forward movement, as seen by Beatrice’s finger pointing the way towards the Eunoe, Matelda’s grip on Dante’s arm as she urgently leads him onward, and Matelda’s outstretched arms towards a kneeling Dante, whose upward gaze implies that the souls must now ascend up towards the realm of Paradise (Figure 20). This image therefore contains suggestions of both horizontal and vertical movement, underlining the significance of the water in facilitating the transition of the souls from one state of blessedness to another. In these two manuscripts, the barriers of fire and water can therefore be seen to represent an exit from one stage of the souls’ purification to the next, hinting at the final stages necessary in order to leave Purgatory, rather than signifying a precise, singular exit from the realm as was often portrayed for Inferno. In contrast, although Yates Thompson does include the fire on the terrace of lust, the image is more static than Egerton, as, instead of showing the movement of the pilgrim and Virgil through the flames and into the Earthly Paradise, the visual narrative focuses upon the punishment that the lustful undergo (Figure 21).
Figure 21. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 113v.
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Moreover, the final illumination of Purgatorio in Yates Thompson depicts the heavenly Procession, thereby attributing a greater importance to this event in Purgatory, rather than Dante’s transition into Paradise via the Lethe and the Eunoe, which are not pictured at all.85 It is worth noting, however, that Yates Thompson has only 12 illuminations of Purgatorio, suggesting that the illuminator would have had to condense what he considered to be the most important episodes of the cantica into a few choice images. The illuminators in our three manuscripts were thus able to encourage a particular reading of Purgatorio through their choice of scene for the final illuminations, which vary considerably depending on the different aims and interpretations of the illuminator. These three manuscripts all choose to follow Dante’s concept of a more hopeful Purgatory, not only by distinguishing the landscape and colour of the realm from that of Inferno, but also by emphasizing the onward movement of the pilgrim towards the divine, especially through the depiction of entrances and exits between the different sections of Purgatorio. The fact that the illuminators all choose to depict an entrance demonstrates the importance of portraying Purgatorio as a distinct, independent realm of the afterlife, despite a lack of theological consensus on the matter. While this suggests a somewhat ‘neutral’ engagement with Purgatorio, elements of Dante’s realm are in fact fragmented and recombined in many of these images.86 The representation of Purgatory’s entrance, as well as the final images of Purgatorio in each manuscript, are quite different, with some illuminators placing a greater emphasis upon the crossing of barriers than others. In contrast to the restrained response this uncertain doctrine seemed to impose upon the textual commentators, who rarely mentioned Dante’s innovative geography of Purgatory, the illuminators were unable to ignore the topography of the realm as it was fundamental for their depictions. Indeed, rather than acting as a censor for artistic creativity, the lack of specificity in Church doctrine regarding the geography of Purgatory appears, conversely, to have increased artistic freedom for the illuminators of Purgatorio, whose images can be seen to offer their own unique form of commentary on the realm.
ii. Cato and Manfred Cato
85 London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-50), fol. 119r. 86 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9, p. 11.
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As we have seen in the commentary tradition, the potentially unorthodox presence of Cato in Purgatorio was rarely acknowledged, especially as the commentators often viewed him exclusively as an allegory of liberty. Similarly, in the illuminations of the opening cantos of Purgatorio, there is little sense that Cato is an unusual character to find in this realm. In Egerton and Holkham, Cato is represented as an elderly, authoritative and respected character.
Figure 22. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 63r.
Figure 23. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 57.
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Figure 24. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 60.
In both manuscripts, the ‘quattro luci sante’ (Purg., I. 37) are situated directly above him (Figures 22 and 23), accentuating the divinity of the realm that he is responsible for and his own divine authority. In other manuscripts Cato sometimes has a halo, which emphasizes his divine appointment as the guardian of Purgatory.87 In Egerton, Cato’s spiritual authority is underlined by his position on the rock above Dante and Virgil (Figure 22), which stresses the ascent towards the divine that awaits the pilgrim, whilst in Holkham he is placed in the centre of each image (Figures 23 and 24), with Dante kneeling before him in the illumination to canto I. This display of reverence, alongside the depiction of Cato’s beard and robes in this manuscript, which are similar to those of
the apostles found later in the illuminations to Paradiso XXIV, further heightens Cato’s divine importance.88 The inclusion of Cato in most illuminated manuscripts of Purgatorio implies that his presence in Purgatory was not so unorthodox that it was considered problematic in relation to Church doctrine. However, the use of elements symbolic of the divine when portraying Cato could hint that he has a more allegorical
87 For similar representations of Cato, see Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, MS Strozziano 152 (Florentine, c. 1335-45), fol. 30v; London, British Museum, Additional MS 19587 (Neopolitan, c. 1370), fol. 62r; New York, The Pierpont Morgan Library, MS 676 (Italian, late fourteenth century), fol. 49r; and Padua, Biblioteca del Seminario, MS 67 (Paduan, early fifteenth century), fol. 107r: see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 329-31. On Cato as a Christ figure, see Ronald L. Martinez and Robert M. Durling, The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, 3 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996-2011), II: Purgatorio (2003), 591-92; Nathan P. Carson, ‘A Suicide Celebrated: Cato of Utica as Godly Exemplar for the Telos of Dante’s Commedia’ (Waco: Baylor University, 2006),
103 function in these illuminations, mirroring the interpretation of many early commentators who claimed he merely represented the liberty for which Christ died. Unlike Egerton and Holkham, Dante and Virgil’s encounter with Cato is not given its own illumination in Yates Thompson, where Cato is instead almost hidden on the margins of the first miniature of Purgatorio (Figure 25).
Figure 25. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442- 1450), fol. 68r.
Cato seems to be completely ignored by Dante and Virgil, and he consequently does not have such a dominant presence as in the other two manuscripts. The illuminator perhaps did not want to draw attention to the controversial nature of Cato’s salvation, but, given that Cato is still depicted and his role as the guardian of Purgatory is therefore acknowledged, the illuminator was more likely subject to spatial constraints. Either way, Priamo lessens the impact of Dante’s radical decision to save Cato, not by presenting him purely as an allegory of liberty, as in the commentary tradition, but by reducing the amount of space attributed to him. It appears then that, unlike the commentaries, the illuminators do not negate the historical reality of Dante’s Cato in favour of a completely allegorical interpretation, perhaps because the level of nuance required would be harder to relay visually. The relatively consistent portrayal of Cato as an important, divinely authorized figure, however, still helps legitimize his presence in Purgatory, as is seen in the commentaries.
Manfred The unusual presence of Manfred in Purgatorio, like that of Cato, was also either largely ignored by commentators or simply justified as an example of God’s mercy. Here, the illuminators seem to follow a similar approach, as this illegitimate and excommunicated King of Sicily is not represented at all in Yates Thompson. This decision was probably
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not motivated by a concern about the potential heresy of Manfred’s salvation, however, as Cato, whose salvation is equally questionable, is depicted. It is more likely that Manfred was not included because Priamo della Quercia focused upon representing each group of sinners and the punishment they undergo, rather than the personal encounters between Dante and the repentant souls. Dante’s text is thus adapted in these images for the specific aims of the manuscript illuminator or commissioner. In contrast to Yates Thompson, Egerton and Holkham both choose to depict Manfred, portraying him with wounds on his eyebrow, ‘ma l’un de’ cigli un colpo vea
diviso’ (Purg., III. 108), and breast, ‘una piaga a sommo ’l petto’ (Purg., III. 111), which act both as a reminder, in text and image, of how Manfred died in battle and of his
violent reign as king. In Egerton, Manfred is not ‘biondo’ (Purg., III. 107) as he is in Dante’s text, but he dominates the centre of the image in a dark robe with his wounds clearly visible (Figure 26). This style of representation is rarely found in other manuscripts, which often picture a crowned Manfred on the mountain instead.89
Figure 26. London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 67v.
The illuminator here does not therefore justify Manfred’s presence in Purgatory by magnifying his virtues, but rather emphasizes Manfred’s violent past on Earth to perhaps highlight God’s mercy in saving him, as is seen in several commentaries and Manfred’s own speech.90
89 For the few other illuminations of Manfred see London, British Museum, Additional MS 19587 (Neopolitan, c. 1370), fol. 64r; and Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, MS Strozziano 152 (Florentine, c. 1335-45), fol. 33r: see Illuminated Manuscripts of the Divine Comedy, II, 336-37. 90 As we have seen, the following commentaries are among those that use the presence of Manfred in Purgatorio to highlight God’s mercy: Jacopo della Lana (1324-28), L’ottimo commento (1333), Francesco da Buti (1385-95), the Anonimo Fiorentino (1400), Cristoforo Landino (1481) and Alessandro Vellutello (1544).
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In Holkham, Manfred wears a crown and a white robe that is reminiscent of the
‘bianche stole’ (Par., XXV. 95) of those in the Empyrean (Figures 27 and 28). Manfred’s clothing may therefore demonstrate his worthiness and legitimize his presence in this realm of the saved.
Figure 27. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 62.
Figure 28. Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 62.
Although Manfred is clearly considered to be an important figure here, he is still only a repentant soul and is thus not afforded the same respect and authority as Cato, the guardian of Purgatory, despite the controversial salvation of both figures. Unlike Egerton, where Dante and Virgil face towards Manfred, listening intently, in this manuscript Virgil appears to ignore Manfred and pulls Dante away from him (Figure 27). This is also seen in Figure 28 where Dante and Virgil do not look back towards Manfred as they climb the mountain. The attention of the viewer is thus not focused solely upon Manfred, as is the case in Egerton, but rather upon the onward journey of the pilgrim. The illuminator in Holkham therefore does not concentrate upon Manfred’s questionable
106 presence in Purgatory but instead highlights his merits whilst privileging the pilgrim’s journey towards the divine in his interpretation of this episode.
Conclusion Like the written commentary tradition, then, the illuminators seem to rationalize Dante’s innovative theology of Purgatory in their illustrations. Just as the verbal commentators refused to acknowledge the audacity of Cato and Manfred’s salvation, justifying their presence in Purgatorio and thereby reducing the radical impact of their salvation, the illuminators also help minimize the controversy of Dante’s decision by regularly emphasizing the worthiness of these figures in their depictions, or, as in Egerton, by underlining Manfred’s human nature to show the mercy of God in saving him. This suggests that, despite the lack of doctrinal stability surrounding Purgatory, early commentators and illuminators were still seemingly influenced by the fear of deviating from Church teaching on this subject. They consequently sought to encourage the normalization of Dante’s realm, often through fragmenting and reformulating the focus of Dante’s text. Contemporary theological understandings of Purgatory may therefore have influenced the initial response to certain aspects of Dante’s theological conceptualization of the realm. However, rather than legitimising Dante’s purgatorial doctrine so that it could be reproduced by later writers and artists, these efforts to normalise potentially problematic aspects of the realm could also suggest that commentators were unwilling to endorse Dante as a figure of theological authority. This chapter has also considered the significance of the geographical representation of this realm and how it changed according to the interpretation of the illuminator, who, unlike the commentators, could not ignore the innovative topography of Purgatorio. Despite stylistic differences, the three manuscripts we have analysed each underline the exceptional physical fabric of Dante’s Purgatorio by presenting a bright and colourful landscape that is emphatically distinguished and demarcated from the darker realm of Inferno, and thus more closely identifiable with the divine. As we saw with the Parma manuscript, however, this was not always the case for illuminations of Purgatorio, which, under the influence of visionary literature, occasionally presented a more infernal picture of Purgatory than that found in Dante’s text. A positive influence approach recognises that, even when the engagement with Dante is explicit, there are still
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numerous ‘tributaries’ influencing the artists and commentators studied in this chapter.91 As well as the visionary tradition, the lack of an established visual tradition for Purgatory and the lack of consensus within the Church regarding its geographical definition arguably contributed to this dramatic variation in the landscape of Purgatorio, which will be important to consider in subsequent geographical depictions of Purgatory as well. My comparative approach in this chapter is thus innovative in its examination of both the early exegetical and visual reception of Purgatorio. Whilst the illuminations do not provide such a detailed exegesis as the commentaries and the illuminators may not have had the same level of intellectual responsibility for their work, the examples in this chapter intentionally acknowledge Dante’s Purgatorio and so they still represent ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality.92 Commentators and illuminators do not always represent a simple imitation of Purgatorio, however, and instead often demonstrate a ‘layered engagement’ with this poem. Thus, although the commentary and manuscript miniature traditions engage with different aspects of Dante’s text, they both offer their own form of commentary on Purgatorio, which often seeks to legitimize Dante’s middle realm. This may consequently have impacted the later reception of Purgatorio. Studying the reaction of early commentators and illuminators to the geography and theology of Dante’s Purgatorio, and its distinction from Inferno, is thus helpful in offering vital contextualization, as well as possible connections and contrasts with later artistic and literary representations of Purgatory, which will be analysed in the following chapters of this thesis.
91 Baxandall, Patterns of Intention, p. 83; and Orr, pp. 84-85. 92 Lyne, pp. 40-42.
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Chapter Two: Visual Depictions of Purgatory in Frescoes from the Italian peninsula
In chapters two and three I will examine a selection of visual representations of Purgatory in frescoes and altarpieces from the Italian peninsula, dating from the 1330s to the 1570s. In contrast to the study of manuscript miniatures in chapter one, here I will focus on images that do not directly represent Purgatorio and have thus rarely been studied in relation to Dante’s text. This approach will allow me to assess the extent of Purgatorio’s influence within the broader context of artistic depictions of Purgatory at this time. I will consider whether Dante’s unique conception of Purgatory as a distinct and hopeful realm of the afterlife, associated more closely with Paradise than Hell, and which allowed saved souls to be transformed through purgation in order to enter Paradise, may have influenced the portrayal of the realm in these artworks. I will also explore whether the concept of Purgatory develops differently in these visual representations when compared to the manuscript miniatures examined previously. The following two chapters will therefore question whether, following Dante’s portrayal of an independent Purgatory in his Commedia, Purgatory is represented as a geographically separate realm in these visual depictions, as well as considering whether Purgatory is linked more closely to Hell or Paradise. The representation of exits and entrances, which help define Purgatory as an independent realm, will remain an important strand of analysis, alongside a consideration of the differences between the transitional movement of souls, inherent in Dante’s Purgatory, and a more static purgation. In my analysis, I suggest that these frescoes and altarpieces could demonstrate the growing acceptance of the doctrine of Purgatory, given the prominent position that they occupy within their respective churches. However, perhaps due to the continued lack of doctrinal clarity, these representations of Purgatory, which were beginning to be more widely disseminated within the Church, were rarely consistent with one another. These chapters will consequently help to assess, within a broader context and across a range of diverse art forms, the possible influence of Dante’s Purgatorio for this developing and varied visual conceptualization of Purgatory, which is important when considering both the development of the doctrine of Purgatory and the relationship between literature and art in this period.
Viewers and Patrons
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As we saw in the introduction to this thesis, in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries Dante’s Purgatorio would have been widely read and studied by those of high social rank in the Italian peninsula. It is also probable that many of the less educated would have been familiar with the text, which may have reached them through different channels. As the frescoes and altarpieces that I am going to examine are situated in a range of churches that differ in size, geographical location and religious affiliation, their collective audience may have been similarly diverse, in terms of social status and education, and consequently may have had varying degrees of knowledge concerning Dante’s Purgatorio. The viewers may therefore have been able to appreciate the potential influence of this text upon visual representations of the afterlife. It is important to note, however, that the majority of viewers, as well as artists and commissioners, would probably have been better acquainted with the more infernal notions of Purgatory that were already present in popular visionary literature at this time, as this established tradition included texts that were perhaps more accessible for the less-educated masses than Dante’s Purgatorio.1 In order to examine the wider impact of Dante’s conception of Purgatory in this context, it is necessary to consider briefly the patronage process and the ways in which, not only viewers, but also artists and commissioners may have encountered Dante’s text. Corine Schleif emphasizes the fluidity of the term ‘patronage’ in the medieval period, demonstrating that in the Middle Ages it could encompass a number of varied roles and responsibilities:
According to medieval written sources, those we see as patrons were commissioning, initiating, authoring, or authorizing, they were administering or sponsoring, they were founding or endowing, they were donating or giving, they were worshiping God, they were venerating the Virgin or the saints, they were performing good works, they were providing goods and services for their fellow constituents or for all faithful souls, they
1 Eileen Gardiner underlines that religion was often the impetus for the recording and dissemination of the medieval visions, as these visions could encourage conversion amongst the populace, as well as prayers and masses for the dead, and so many copies and translations were made. See Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner, p. xxvi. Carol Zaleski also demonstrates the widespread influences of these accounts, showing how the Treatise on the Purgatory of St. Patrick by H. of Sawtry, for example, was translated into most European vernacular languages and often appeared in modified forms in chronicles, sermons and records of saints’ lives, as well as being recounted by various pilgrims to Lough Derg in diaries, letters and poems during the thirteenth century. See Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys, pp. 34-35. For more on the dissemination of the medieval visions, see also Gurevich, Medieval Popular Culture; Gurevich, ‘Popular and Scholarly Medieval Cultural Traditions’, 71-90; and Le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory.
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were establishing memorials for themselves and their kin, and they were fervently hoping for eternal salvation.2
This demonstrates that medieval patrons could have many different motives for commissioning an artwork and, as Anabel Thomas has shown, these motives often led patrons to take a more active role in overseeing the design and execution of an image.3 In the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries, collaborative artistic practice was common in artists’ workshops, where a team of apprentices, often skilled in many areas, were trained and led by a master and usually taught to reproduce his style or that of other prominent artists.4 However, given the varied role of the patron, it was also possible for the different responsibilities of the artist and the patron to overlap, especially concerning the materials and imagery used, and ensuring the quality of the craftsmanship.5 In the late fifteenth to sixteenth centuries patrons began to request specific artists, who would be selected for their skill and consequently were sometimes granted more influence over the image itself.6 Indeed, in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries there was, ‘a crucial shift from the artist as mere artisan belonging to a craft guild to the artist as creative and learned
2 Corinne Schleif, ‘Seeking Patronage: Patrons & Matrons in Language, Art, and Historiography’, in Patronage: Power & Agency in Medieval Art, ed. by Colum Hourihane (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013), pp. 206-32 (p. 210). 3 Anabel Thomas, The Painter’s Practice in Renaissance Tuscany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 256-57. 4 See Catherine King, ‘Italian Artists in Search of Virtue, Fame, and Honour c. 1450- c. 1650’, in The Changing Status of the Artist, ed. by Emma Barker, Nick Webb and Kim Woods (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), pp. 56-87 (p. 59); Diana Norman, ‘‘Little Desire for Glory’: The Case of Ambrogio and Pietro Lorenzetti’, in The Changing Status of the Artist, ed. by Emma Barker, Nick Webb and Kim Woods (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), pp. 32-55 (p. 46); and Thomas, pp. 265-66. On the relationship between the artist and patron, and artist’s workshops more generally, see Louise Bourdua, The Franciscans and Art Patronage in Late Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Jill Burke, Changing Patrons (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2004); Jill Caskey, ‘Medieval Patronage and its Potentialities’, in Patronage: Power and Agency in Medieval Art, ed. by Colum Hourihane (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013), pp. 3-30; Alessandro Conti, ‘L’evoluzione dell’artista’, in Storia dell’arte italiana, 12 vols (Turin: Einaudi, 1979-83), II (1979), 115-263; Anne Derbes, ‘Patronage, Gender and Generation in Late Medieval Italy: Fina Buzzacarini and the Baptistery of Padua’, in Patronage: Power and Agency in Medieval Art, ed. by Colum Hourihane (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013), pp. 119-50; Holly Flora, ‘Patronage’, Studies in Iconography, 33 (2012), 207-18; Michelangelo Muraro, ‘The Altarpiece in the Bassano Workshop: Patronage, Contracts, and Iconography’, in Altarpieces 1250-1550: Function and Design, ed. by Eve Borsook and Fiorella Superbi Gioffredi (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), pp. 231-58; Patricia Rubin, ‘Commission and Design in Central Italian Altarpieces’, in Italian Altarpieces 1250-1550: Function and Design, ed. by Eve Borsook and Fiorella Superbi Gioffredi (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), pp. 201-31; Max Seidel, ‘Patronage and Pictorial Language’, in Italian Altarpieces 1250-1550: Function and Design, ed. by Eve Borsook and Fiorella Superbi Gioffredi (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), pp. 119-37. 5 Thomas, pp. 256-57. 6 King, ‘Italian Artists in Search of Virtue, Fame, and Honour c. 1450- c. 1650’, pp. 56-57; and Rubin, p. 209.
111 personality’.7 However, despite the increasing tendency for patrons in the late fifteenth century to request the skills of an individual artist, King shows that artists also continued to work collaboratively within a workshop environment.8 This fluid, changing relationship between patron and artist will be important to take into account when considering the potential extent of the patron’s influence or the artist’s creativity upon the images of Purgatory that I will be examining. Aside from the personal preference of a patron or artist, many images were also influenced by existing visual models. Benjamin David outlines the use of visual models in a specifically Sienese context, demonstrating how the practice of collaboration in artist’s workshops, as well as prototypes established by civic and ecclesiastical patronage, led to a greater ‘visual coherence’ in Sienese art.9 He argues that this artistic continuity was encouraged by patrons who often ‘wanted something new, but that “newness” had to be enabled by the art of the past’.10 While patrons enjoyed following contemporary artistic trends, the artists themselves also made use of existing imagery. In his research on sculpture, Lois Drewer shows that scenes from manuscript illuminations were often used as models by artisans skilled in other areas, who would have accessed these images through model books or sets of working sketches.11 This demonstrates that different artistic media could influence each other in the Middle Ages. The use of visual model books, as well as the practice of re-producing and re-formulating existing contemporary images, may therefore help to explain possible similarities in the representations of Purgatory that I will be examining in the following frescos and altarpieces. As well as drawing upon existing imagery, commissioners and artists were also subject to literary influence. Hayden Maginnis argues that in the thirteenth century direct illustrations of poetic or mystical texts were rare because of the growing popularity of narrative literature, such as the saints’ lives in Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend.12
7 Emma Barker, Nick Webb and Kim Woods, ‘Historical Introduction: The Idea of the Artist’, in The Changing Status of the Artist, ed. by Emma Barker, Nick Webb and Kim Woods (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), pp. 7-25 (p. 7). 8 King, ‘Italian Artists in Search of Virtue, Fame, and Honour c. 1450- c. 1650’, pp. 56-57, p. 59. 9 Benjamin David, ‘Past and Present in Sienese Painting: 1350-1550’, RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, 40 (2001), 77-100,
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He suggests that narrative texts inspired narrative painting, where figures and events were depicted in an order following the literary narrative, thereby emphasizing a broader connection between developments in text and image.13 Max Seidel and Patricia Rubin demonstrate that artistic works could also be inspired by specific textual sources, as seen in Seidel’s analysis of Matteo di Giovanni’s altarpiece of the Confraternity of Santa Barbara in San Domenico, Siena, which was commissioned in 1478 and inspired by John of Hildesheim’s treatise Die Legende von den Heiligen Königen (1364-75), and Rubin’s study of the Madonna with Child and Saints (1516) by Jacopo Pontormo, housed in San Michele Visdomini in Florence and inspired by the Gospel of St. John and Dürer’s Apocalypse.14 While Seidel demonstrates how the patron could determine the finer details of an artwork by including in the artist’s contract a specific description of the scene to be painted, there is no direct mention of a textual source to be imitated.15 Instead, Rubin and Seidel show that the influence of a text is indirectly hinted at, rather than specifically requested in the contract, suggesting that a potential source text may have been discussed but not written down. This lack of written evidence makes an analysis concerning the precise extent of any textual influence upon an image quite hard to determine. Moreover, in the context of manuscript miniatures, where the relationship between text and image is more established, Karl Fugelso points out that the images could sometimes depart from the surrounding text that they were meant to depict, as we saw in the Parma manuscript in chapter one.16 This demonstrates that, even when a certain text is clearly being used as direct inspiration, the image does not represent a simple imitation of the text. Indeed, the process of condensing a text into an image could sometimes change its original meaning.17 Although commissioners did not usually request aspects of a particular text to be reproduced in their images, as we have seen, it is clear that a variety of both textual and visual sources, whether intentionally or not, still influenced those commissioning and producing images in frescoes and altarpieces. It is thus quite possible that, rather than being directly imitated, Dante’s Commedia may have been used as a more general model for later visual depictions of the afterlife. While there is no way of knowing this for certain, I will still be able to study the potential engagement of these
13 Maginnis, p. 189. 14 Rubin, pp. 208-09; and Seidel, pp. 127-29. 15 Seidel, p. 129. 16 Fugelso, p. 275. For the Parma MS, see Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS 3285, fol. 31r, in Ponchia, Frammenti dell’aldilà. 17 On the messages that images contain and transmit, see Roland Barthes, ‘Rhétorique de l’image’, in L’Obvie et l’obtus: essais critiques II (Paris: Seuil, 1982), pp. 25-42
113 artists with Dante’s Purgatorio by using Lyne’s concepts of ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ intertextuality.18 According to Lyne’s methodology, it does not matter whether a perceived connection with Dante in these frescoes is intentional or unconscious and thus mediated through other traditions, as both types of interaction can still result in the transformation of, or resistance to, his text. As well as literary and artistic influences, the production of an image was shaped by its perceived relationship with the viewer, which could bestow the image with purpose. Michael Baxandall explains that in the fifteenth century a ‘painting was usually a variation on a theme known to the beholder through other pictures, as well as private meditation and public exposition by preachers’, activities which encouraged a high level of interior visualization.19 He suggests that it is likely that viewers in this period would have approached a painting with ‘preconceived interior pictures’.20 This meant that many painters recognised the viewer as a critical thinker who would have some prior knowledge of the predominantly biblical subjects they were depicting. Painters consequently sought to complement, rather than overpower, the viewer’s personal visualization in their paintings.21 King argues that, ‘an approach to art which emphasises buyers, viewers and users of art is one that matches fifteenth-century notions of the importance of the critical beholder’.22 Like the artist and commissioner, then, the viewer can also be seen to play an influential role for the production process. The relationship between commissioner, artist, and viewer was not always harmonious, however, especially in a religious context. Image production was influenced heavily by the Church. Jill Burke emphasises the importance of ‘the theory of magnificence’ for artistic commissions during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which argued that high levels of spending on church decoration could be justified as it was seen to honour God and benefit the congregation.23 Many theologians since Gregory the Great had supported this idea, underlining the instructive nature of images for the illiterate in particular, and how they could encourage devotion and remain in the memory
18 Lyne, pp. 40-42. 19 Michael Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972), p. 75. See also pp. 45-56. 20 Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 45-46. 21 Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 46-48. 22 Catherine King, Renaissance Women Patrons: Wives and Widows in Italy c. 1300-1550 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), p. 2. 23 Burke, p. 36 and p. 167.
114 of the beholder more easily.24 However, some painters were severely criticised for their artwork by members of the clergy during sermons.25 Preachers such as Savonarola condemned the element of personal honour involved in these commissions, where riches were used for fame and not for charity, and claimed that extravagant decoration actually distracted the viewer from contemplating God.26 This shows that there were fears amongst certain members of the clergy about the power of an image to mislead a viewer, especially if they were illiterate. The criticism of artwork amongst preachers also evidenced the tensions within the Church regarding idolatry, which was a particularly prominent concern in the fourteenth century.27 As the Church had no theology of images, there was little consensus concerning the exact purpose of a religious image and its perceived effect upon the viewer.28 This may also have contributed toward the limited portrayal of Purgatory in this period. The geographical and spiritual elements of this realm were similarly ill-defined by the Church, which did not officially accept it as a doctrine until the Council of Trent (1545-63), and those commissioning and/or producing artworks may consequently have wanted to avoid misleading viewers about this realm.29 My positive influence approach seeks to recognise the numerous agencies and intentions at work in select frescoes and altarpieces. Given that Florence became the central hub for the production and distribution of the Commedia during this period, as we have seen, and the frescoes and altarpieces I have found to study are located primarily in Tuscany and Umbria, it is perhaps more likely that the commissioners, artists and viewers of these artworks would have had at least some familiarity with Dante’s Purgatorio.30 The distinctive and innovative nature of Dante’s version of Purgatory ought to make its presence easier to identify in subsequent artworks, even if it cannot be established with any certainty whether these artists present a direct response to Dante or a more mediated one. I shall therefore consider any possible Dantean engagement in these works as an ‘implicit’ act of intertextuality.
24 See Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 40-45; and Maginnis, pp. 162-63; and Elizabeth Sears, ‘“Reading” Images’, in Reading Medieval Images: The Art Historian and The Object, ed. by Elizabeth Sears and Thelma K. Thomas (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 2002), pp. 1-7 (p. 1). 25 Burke, p. 169. See also Baxandall, Painting and Experience, p. 43. 26 Burke, pp. 168-69. 27 Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 42-43; Maginnis, p. 164. 28 Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 40-45; and Maginnis, pp. 168-70. 29 Jonathan B. Riess, The Renaissance Antichrist: Luca Signorelli’s Orvieto Frescoes (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), pp. 42-43. 30 Barański, ‘Textual Transmission’, p. 509.
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Frescoes Fresco painting has been in existence since antiquity and reached its peak in the Italian peninsula during the Renaissance period.31 Different techniques of fresco painting became popular, including fresco secco, which was not very durable as it involved applying pigment to a dry wall, and buon fresco, which was often preferred. For buon fresco, the design was firstly sketched upon a layer of coarse lime plaster before the smoother layer of plaster called intonaco was applied. Pigments mixed with water were then painted onto the intonaco whilst it was still wet. The fresco was completed in sections known as giornate, as each section had to be completed in one go, or in ‘one day’ of work, while the plaster was wet. The time constraints of this technique may have made it necessary for fresco artists to be a little more spontaneous, which could also have an impact on content and design. Frescoes were mainly used to decorate the walls and ceilings of churches, convents and monasteries, although they also decorated civic buildings.32 They were also commissioned for the homes of wealthy merchants and bankers, and by families who owned chapels in larger churches.33 Frescoes were often painted in cycles for one particular space and, although the subject matter could be secular in nature, they would usually depict scenes from the Old and New Testaments, or the life of a saint who was of particular importance to the church or family involved in the commission.34 Scenes from the life of Christ or the Virgin Mary were especially popular. It does not seem to have been common, however, for Purgatory to be represented in frescoes on the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.35 Purgatory is usually only found in frescoes depicting the Last Judgement or the life of a saint, such as Saint Lawrence, Saint Patrick, or Saint Michael the Archangel, who have each been associated with Purgatory or the destination of souls after death.36 It is possible, then, that in many cases the
31 My account here is informed by the helpful discussion in Jennifer Meagher, ‘Italian Painting of the Later Middle Ages’, in Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2010),
116 inclusion of Purgatory in a fresco was dependent upon the relationship between the building, family or religious order, and a particular saint. However, even in scenes of the Last Judgement or the life of a saint, the inclusion of Purgatory was still relatively rare, and I will therefore examine possible reasons for the presence of the realm in these cases and evaluate whether there is any consistency in the imagery used. Given the extent of the Commedia’s textual transmission across the Italian peninsula, as we have seen, it is surprising that there are so few direct visual representations of Dante’s Purgatorio in frescoes from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. This lack of visual representation could be explained by the fact that frescoes were usually situated within churches, and, as Jonathan B. Riess explains, ‘ecclesiastical leaders were ambiguous about accepting Dante as an authority on doctrine’.37 Karl Fugelso underlines this ambiguity concerning Dante’s spiritual authority in his analysis of fourteenth- and fifteenth-century commentaries and manuscript miniatures of the Commedia, where he demonstrates that in the fifteenth century Dante’s text appears to lose the divine authority that had been attributed to it in the fourteenth century.38 Moreover, it was not only Dante’s theological validity that was called into question during this period, but also the validity of Purgatory itself, which, as Riess underlines, was not officially accepted by the Church as an article of faith until the Council of Trent (1545-63).39 The resulting and Carl Brandon Strehlke, ‘Cenni di Francesco, the Gianfigliazzi, and the Church of Santa Trinita in Florence’, The J. Paul Getty Museum Journal, 20 (1992), 11-40,
117 uncertainty may therefore have contributed to the fact that few artists at this time depicted the realm of Purgatory in fresco, let alone a direct representation of Dante’s Purgatorio.40 Two notable exceptions, which are frequently discussed, are the well-known fresco cycle by Luca Signorelli in the Cappella Nuova in Orvieto, dating from c. 1499-1504, and the painting known as La commedia illumina Firenze (1456) by Domenico di Michelino, located in the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence. Signorelli includes eleven scenes from Purgatorio on the lower walls of the Cappella Nuova that have been extensively examined in relation to the Commedia, alongside a portrait of Dante amongst other classical writers (Figures 29 and 30), while the upper walls contain detailed images of the Apocalypse.41 Significantly, Riess argues that Signorelli departs from standard representations of Purgatorio by emphasizing the role of Purgatory in preparing souls for Heaven in his scenes, which he locates beneath the images of the Blessed in Heaven and those entering Heaven, thereby associating Purgatory more closely with Paradise.42
40 Riess, pp. 42-43. 41 For key studies on Signorelli’s frescoes, see Patrizia Castelli, ‘Immortales animae: gli uomini illustri di Orvieto e l’esegesi dantesca’, in La cappella nova o di San Brizio nel Duomo di Orvieto, ed. by G. Testa (Milan: Rizzoli, 1996), pp. 215-21; Ronald B. Herzman, ‘Visibile parlare’: Dante’s Purgatorio 10 and Luca Signorelli’s San Brizio Frescoes’, Studies in Iconography, 20 (1999), 155-83,
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Figure 29. Left: Luca Signorelli, c. 1499-1504, fresco, Cappella Nuova, Orvieto Cathedral, Orvieto. Top: The Blessed in Paradise. Bottom: Portraits of Dante and Virgil with eleven surrounding scenes from Purgatorio. Figure 30. Right: detail: scenes from Purgatorio. Photographs my own.
Michelino, on the other hand, depicts Mount Purgatory in its entirety, with the different punishments of the souls visible on each terrace (Figure 31).43 The entrance to Inferno is portrayed on the left, with the city of Florence on the right, alongside a large figure of Dante, crowned with a laurel wreath and holding his Commedia open as it radiates light upon his native city.
43 For studies on Michelino’s La commedia illumina Firenze see, amongst others, Rudolph Altrocchi, ‘Michelino’s Dante’, Speculum, 6 (1931), 15-59,
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Figure 31. Domenico di Michelino, La commedia illumina Firenze, 1456, fresco, Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence.
Despite being in the background of this image, Mount Purgatory occupies a central position that appears more dominant than either Hell or Paradise, which are slightly peripheral and not depicted in their entirety. Indeed, in contrast to the souls in Hell whose punishment remains undefined, as they simply descend further into the realm following a demon, Michelino offers a more detailed portrayal of the punishment specific to Purgatory. Moreover, the purgatorial mountain is physically distinct and distant from Hell and oriented toward the spheres of Paradise, as in Purgatorio. This means that the journey of the souls and their eventual salvation is made abundantly clear for the viewer, who can see that the souls enter through the gate of Purgatory, proceed along the various terraces, and ultimately leave the realm via the Earthly Paradise. Even though a view of the whole of Mount Purgatory is included in several manuscript illuminations of Purgatorio, as we have seen in the previous chapter, the mountain is seldom present in other frescoes of the afterlife, suggesting that these illuminations did not influence a wider artistic iconography for the realm of Purgatory. Indeed, as we shall see, visual representations that did not explicitly depict Purgatorio did not tend to offer such a distinct tripartite division of the afterlife and, as a consequence, fresco depictions of Purgatory rarely had a geography that was as clearly defined as that seen in Michelino’s image. Signorelli and Michelino therefore underline the distinct, tripartite nature of Dante’s afterlife and the hope of Paradise that permeates Purgatorio. They use Dante directly and knowingly, as seen by their inclusion of scenes that are faithful to the text of the Commedia and the use of
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Dante’s portrait alongside or within these images. As this chapter will not focus primarily on direct representations of Purgatorio, however, I will compare these Dantean characteristics with four frescoes that have rarely been considered in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio and the broader development of Purgatory. I have chosen to study these four frescoes from Tuscany and Umbria in depth, as they not only originate from different time periods, allowing for a broader understanding of developing conceptions of Purgatory, but they are also the most complete representations of Purgatory that I could find in fourteenth- to sixteenth-century Italian fresco. I will start by looking at a tomb fresco (c. 1330s) by Maso di Banco in the Santa Croce in Florence, which depicts a lone figure praying in a barren landscape, situated beneath Christ in Heaven at the Last Judgement. This will be followed by Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio’s fresco, dating from c. 1346-1349 in the Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo in Todi, which depicts a mountain with caverns where the seven deadly sins are punished and from which the purged souls move towards the celestial city. I will then discuss Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi’s fresco (1368) in the Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo in Paganico, which includes a purgatorial pit of fire where souls are submerged. I will conclude my analysis with a fresco by Bartolomeo di Tommaso, dating from c. 1445-50 in the Cappella Paradisi of the Chiesa di San Francesco at Terni, which portrays purgatorial caverns, similar to those at Todi, where the seven deadly sins are punished, although here the celestial city is not included. In this chapter I will also refer to several other Italian fresco fragments from this period that may depict Purgatory.
Critical Context Scholarship has, until now, mainly focused upon analysing each of these four frescoes individually and has tended to underline aspects of artistic influence and technique. During my analysis, I aim to re-evaluate the importance of these artworks by considering not only the relationship between them in the broader context of Purgatory’s visual representation, but also the potential links between text and image in these examples. In so doing, I hope to offer a more innovative and comparative approach to the study of these frescoes, which takes into account the possible literary influence of Dante’s Purgatorio. Several critics have analysed the tomb fresco by Maso di Banco in the Santa Croce in Florence, including Cristina Acidini Luchinat and Enrica Neri Lusanna, Gert Kreytenberg, Eve Borsook, and, most recently, Virginia Brilliant. Acidini Luchinat and
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Neri Lusanna offer an in-depth art historical analysis of Maso di Banco’s fresco cycle of the Stories of St. Sylvester in this chapel, including detailed images, whilst Kreytenberg focuses upon the surrounding sculpture of the tomb and its relationship with the fresco.44 Meanwhile, Borsook and Brilliant offer relatively concise analyses of this particular fresco of the Last Judgement: Borsook in the context of the history of the chapel and the Bardi family, and Brilliant in the context of representations of the particular judgement.45 While they do not focus upon the possible influence of Dante’s Purgatorio, each of these critics has offered a slightly different hypothesis concerning the presence of Purgatory in this image; Acidini Luchinat, Neri Lusanna and Borsook suggest that the entire landscape in this fresco could be purgatorial, whilst Brilliant argues instead that the central mountain in the background could represent Purgatory.46 Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio’s fresco in the Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo in Todi has been studied predominantly in relation to medieval visionary literature, namely the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii (c. 1180-84), by critics including Noel Mac Tréinfhir and Carla de Petris. While De Petris underlines the importance of the Servite order for this fresco, Tréinfhir considers the potential influence of Dante’s Commedia throughout his analysis, but the primary focus of each scholar remains upon the relationship between this image and the legend of St. Patrick’s Purgatory. The frescoes by Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi in the Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo in Paganico, meanwhile, have been subject to a detailed analysis by Gaudenz Freuler, who focuses on their state of conservation, as well as offering an in-depth study of the fresco of the afterlife, L’allegoria dell’oltretomba, and its representation of Purgatory in particular. Whilst Freuler makes some comparisons with other visual representations of Purgatory, he only briefly mentions Dante’s Purgatorio, instead attributing more importance to the influence of Inferno. Despite the considerable size and detail for the period of Bartolomeo di Tommaso’s fresco in the Chiesa di San Francesco at Terni, it has also not been subject to extensive critical analysis, and especially not in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio. Francesco Zeri has
44 See Maso di Banco: la cappella di San Silvestro, ed. by Cristina Acidini Luchinat and Enrica Neri Lusanna (Milan: Electa, 1998); and Gert Kreytenberg, ‘La tomba di Gualtieri dei Bardi, opera di Agnolo di Ventura, e Maso di Banco scultore’, in Maso di Banco: la cappella di San Silvestro, ed. by Cristina Acidini Luchinat and Enrica Neri Lusanna (Milan: Electa, 1998), pp. 51-60. 45 See Borsook, The Mural Painters of Tuscany; and Brilliant, 314-45. 46 Acidini Luchinat and Neri Lusanna, p. 22; Borsook, p. 40; Brilliant, p. 342, p. 345.
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studied Bartolomeo di Tommaso in detail, looking at his life, the later fate of his works, and the extent of his impact as an artist upon subsequent works and painters.47 He considers the frescoes in the Cappella Paradisi of the Chiesa di San Francesco to be Bartolomeo’s most important artworks and although he explains the layout of the frescoes, his main focus centres upon Bartolomeo’s style of painting, rather than the significance of his representation of Purgatory.48 Whilst Piero Grassini examines these frescoes specifically in relation to Dante’s Commedia, other critics such as Pietro Adorno have focused on Bartolomeo’s connections to the Franciscan Order as a more likely source of influence upon the fresco.49 Jonathan B. Riess is the most recent scholar to analyse Bartolomeo’s frescoes, which he briefly compares and contrasts with Luca Signorelli’s frescoes at Orvieto where, like Dante, Signorelli portrays a hopeful, heavenly Purgatory.50 Whilst Riess recognises some similarities between each of the representations of Purgatory by Dante, Signorelli and Bartolomeo, he suggests that Bartolomeo’s Purgatory is much more closely aligned with Hell.51 He does not, however, consider what this ambiguous association of Purgatory with either Heaven or Hell might tell us more broadly about the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio in later visual representations of Purgatory. There is thus room to expand upon the art-historical perspective that appears to have dominated existing research about these frescoes. I will therefore take a more comparative approach by examining all four of these artworks through the lens of the literary, artistic and theological development of Purgatory in this period.
Maso di Banco, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence The earliest fresco that I am examining in this chapter has been attributed to the fourteenth-century Florentine painter Maso di Banco (active c. 1320-c. 1350) and is
47 See Federico Zeri, ‘Bartolomeo di Tommaso da Foligno’, Bollettino d’Arte, 46 (1961), 41-64
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located in the Bardi di Vernio Chapel in Santa Croce in Florence, which is the chapel furthest to the left of the main apse. It is a tomb fresco, dating from c. 1330s, that was commissioned by the Bardi family, who were an important and wealthy family of bankers with four chapels in Santa Croce.52 This fresco is also very close in date to the composition of the Commedia (c. 1308-1321), which could potentially demonstrate whether Dante’s Purgatorio had any immediate impact upon frescoes of the afterlife in the Italian peninsula.
Figure 32. Maso di Banco, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
The fresco itself depicts the Last Judgement, with Christ portrayed in the heavens, wearing a red robe that reveals his wounds and surrounded by six angels holding instruments and symbols of the Passion (Figure 32).53 Beneath Christ there is a barren, rocky landscape, with a mountain in the middle of the background, a darker mountain on the right in the distant background, and what appears to be a dark wood or garden on the left. In the centre of the foreground there is a single male figure in a position of prayer,
52 Borsook, p. 38. 53 Brilliant, p. 342.
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placed between two rocky outcrops, and looking up towards the judging Christ. The figure is positioned in such a way that he appears to be emerging from the tomb in the chapel, which is situated beneath the fresco image. The landscape of the afterlife portrayed in this fresco is quite unusual, which has led to some uncertainty amongst scholars as to what it could represent. Acidini Luchinat and Neri Lusanna argue that whilst the upper section of the fresco, where Christ is depicted, appears to portray the Last Judgement, the lower section is separate and could instead refer to the Beatific Vision, namely the immediate vision of God as judge at the moment of death.54 They underline that the figure of the deceased is wearing clothes, thereby challenging the idea that it portrays the resurrection of the body at the Last Judgement, as in that case the figure would be naked. They argue that there is evidence that the clothes of the figure were a late addition to the fresco, suggesting that there was perhaps some uncertainty concerning what the landscape in this image represented. Whilst they suggest that the barren landscape could allude to the Valley of Jehoshaphat, a valley of judgement named in the Book of Joel, they also claim that it could represent Purgatory, but they do not expand further upon this idea.55 Although the Last Judgement, clearly represented by the depiction of Christ in this fresco, signals the end of time and, by extension, the end of Purgatory, Borsook claims that ‘the theme of prayer in Purgatory’ is still present in Maso di Banco’s fresco, linking this to the theology of St. Gregory, who is depicted in the chapel window.56 She does not go into any detail, however, about what could represent Purgatory in this fresco, making only a very brief reference to ‘the hills in the purgatorial landscape below’.57 This could imply that she considers the whole landscape beneath Christ to be purgatorial, but she does not specify what has brought her to this conclusion. Like Acidini Luchinat, Neri Lusanna and Borsook, Brilliant also suggests that Purgatory is present in this fresco, although she offers a slightly more detailed explanation. Brilliant maintains that this fresco incorporates both the Last Judgement and
54 This paragraph is informed by Acidini Luchinat and Neri Lusanna, pp. 21-23. 55 The Valley of Jehoshaphat is mentioned in Joel 3:2 and Joel 3:12, and whilst some commentators believe it refers to the valley between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives, or the Kidron Valley, others interpret it as an indeterminate place where the Last Judgement will take place. See ‘Jehoshaphat, Valley of’, in The Oxford Dictionary of Christian Art and Architecture, ed. by Peter Murray, Lynda Murray and Tom Devonshire Jones (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013); and ‘Jehoshaphat, Valley of’, in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. by Frank Leslie Cross and Elizbeth A. Livingstone (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 56 Borsook, p. 39. 57 Borsook, p. 40.
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the particular judgement that occurs immediately after death and places the souls in either Hell, Purgatory or Paradise.58 As salvation was often associated with those on the right of Christ, and judgement with those on his left, she claims the dark trees on Christ’s right could symbolize the garden of Heaven, whilst the mountain in the centre could represent Purgatory, and the dark hill on Christ’s left could depict Hell. Like in Dante’s Commedia, Brilliant situates the purgatorial mountain between Heaven and Hell, hinting at its vital spiritual function in enabling salvation. She suggests that the mountain’s central position makes it a focal point in this fresco, which was perhaps intentional given that most people viewing this image at the time would have expected to spend at least some time in Purgatory from the moment of death. There is, however, considerable uncertainty concerning the function of the landscape in this fresco and a lack of consensus amongst scholars as to whether Purgatory is present or not. In order for scholars to assert that Purgatory is depicted in this fresco, it would be necessary, as Brilliant argues, for the particular judgement to be represented alongside the Last Judgement.59 The coexistence of these two seemingly distinct judgements was quite common in the medieval period, when ideas concerning an immediate, individual judgement, which usually facilitated the completion of penance in the afterlife, were
becoming more prominent in Christian teaching.60 In his commentary to Paradiso XXX, Robert Hollander has pointed out that during the 1330s the Beatific Vision was a hotly debated topic.61 Indeed, in some controversial sermons, Pope John XXII (1316-34) preached that the soul would not see God until the Last Judgement when it was reunited with the body.62 His successor, Pope Benedict XII (1334-42), contradicted this idea, instead claiming that at the moment of death the saved soul would immediately experience the vision of God.63 The views of Pope Benedict concerning this doctrine, which had previously not been defined in Church teaching, were formalized by the Benedictus Deus, issued in 1336.64 The ambiguity that characterises this fresco of a
58 This paragraph is informed by Borsook, p. 40; Brilliant, p. 342, p. 345. 59 Brilliant, p. 342. 60 See Philippe Ariès, Western Attitudes to Death: From the Middle Ages to the Present, trans. by P. M. Ranum (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1976); Bernstein, IV, 200-16; Gurevich, Medieval Popular Culture; and Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys. 61 Dante Alighieri, Paradiso, trans. by Jean Hollander and Robert Hollander (New York: Anchor, 2007), pp. 839-40. 62 Hollander, p. 840. 63 Hollander, p. 840. 64 Peter C. Phan, ‘Roman Catholic Theology’, in The Oxford Handbook of Eschatology, ed. by Jerry L. Walls (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 215-32 (p. 216).
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judgement in the afterlife is perhaps not surprising, then, considering the contradictory theological arguments espoused by the papacy during this period. Given Pope Benedict’s formal acceptance of a Beatific Vision before the Last Judgement, however, it is possible that Brilliant’s argument for the inclusion of the particular judgement in this fresco may not be too unrealistic. Indeed, the presence of the particular judgement in this image appears especially convincing when the visual representations surrounding the tomb fresco are also taken into account. The Bardi di Vernio chapel is dedicated to St. Sylvester and the Holy Confessors, and scenes from the story of St. Sylvester’s conversion of the Emperor Constantine are depicted above the tomb fresco as well as on the opposite wall.65 According to legend, St. Sylvester, who was pope from 314 to 335, converted the Emperor Constantine to Christianity by healing his leprosy after baptising him.66
Figure 33. Maso di Banco, Pope Sylvester Baptizes Emperor Constantine, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
The scenes of the Emperor Constantine’s conversion in the chapel highlight the rewards of turning to Christ and being transformed by Him in a process which must begin on
65 Borsook, p. 38. 66 In the chapel, the fresco scenes of Constantine’s conversion begin with his refusal to bathe in the blood of the innocents to help cure his leprosy, and this is followed by Peter and Paul appearing to Constantine in a dream and telling him to send for Pope Sylvester. The Pope is then depicted baptizing Constantine, after he recognizes Peter and Paul from a painting Sylvester shows him, and Constantine is then healed from his leprosy. The fresco cycle also includes scenes depicting the Miracle of the Bull and the Miracle of the Dragon, both performed by Pope Sylvester.
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Earth, a change symbolized here by baptism (Figure 33), but which could be completed in Purgatory in the afterlife, as is perhaps hinted at in the tomb fresco we are examining. The focus upon conversion and transformation, in order to be ultimately united with Christ, is central to the doctrine of Purgatory, especially in Dante’s Purgatorio, which would have been quite well known by this point, given that, as Barański shows, Purgatorio was in circulation by c. 1315-16 and rapidly began to reach a wide audience across the Italian peninsula.67 The inclusion of these themed images alongside the tomb fresco could therefore help to situate it within the context of the particular judgement where, as is seen in the Commedia, a personal conversion on Earth and a willingness to be transformed in Purgatory in order to reach Christ were vital for salvation. These connections with Purgatory can also be seen in the window of the chapel, where Maso di Banco depicts St. Gregory the Great alongside the Emperor Trajan in stained glass.68 Borsook shows that the ideas of St. Gregory were used to highlight the importance of prayer for those in Purgatory, particularly as it was commonly believed at the time that St. Gregory had prayed for the salvation of Trajan. Although Trajan was a pagan, the prayers of St. Gregory were said nevertheless to have saved him from Hell, and this widely held belief is seen, for example, when Trajan appears in Dante’s Paradiso: ‘ora conosce quanto caro costa | non seguir Cristo, per l’esperïenza | di questa dolce vita e de l’opposta’ (Par., XX. 43-48). This image of St. Gregory and the Emperor Trajan in the window therefore highlights the power of praying for the dead and the necessity of helping those who have yet to reach Paradise. The depictions in the chapel surrounding the tomb fresco therefore do not seem to focus upon the Last Judgement, but rather seek to illustrate how those on Earth and those who have undergone the particular judgement can best reach Christ. In the tomb fresco (Figure 32), the male figure depicted in a position of prayer looking towards Christ could therefore be quite significant within the broader context of the chapel. The identity of the figure has been subject to much debate, with some scholars arguing that he represents a specific member of the Bardi family, and others claiming that he does not represent anyone in particular.69 Scholars have also disputed whether the
67 Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, pp. 522-23; and Barański, ‘Textual Transmission’, p. 509, pp. 511-13. 68 This paragraph is informed by Borsook, p. 39. 69 Borsook, p. 39. See also Annegret Höger, ‘Studien zur Entsehung der Famlien-Kapelle und Familienkapellen und-Altären des Trecento in Florentiner Kirchen’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Bonn, 1976), pp. 102-3; Kreytenberg, pp. 51-53; Henriette s’Jacob, Idealism and Realism: A Study of
128 figure is kneeling or standing.70 Borsook argues that the man is rising up towards Christ, meaning that ‘the boundary between tomb and vision is dissolved’.71 This suggests a link between our world and the next, thereby underlining the reality of our fate in the afterlife and perhaps encouraging the viewer to respond. Indeed, in the act of rising up, the figure demonstrates that the salvation process is not static but requires action on our part. Borsook also underlines that the man is not aided in his ascent from the grave by an angel or a patron saint, as was usually the case in scenes of the Last Judgement.72 This difference serves to emphasize the very personal nature of the journey towards Christ and salvation that is represented here, perhaps hinting at the inclusion of the particular judgement. It suggests that by living a good life on Earth and then undergoing purgation in the afterlife, one can be completely transformed and thus able to reach Paradise without the need for a divine mediator acting on one’s behalf. This sense of hope and the possibility of change for those still on Earth is also mirrored in the scenery in the foreground. The rocky terrain that dominates the bottom half of this fresco is quite difficult to interpret, especially as it seems to blur the boundaries between life and death. The vast, barren landscape that is portrayed could possibly be construed as a terrain of worldly exile from Paradise, similar to that found in
Inferno I. Indeed, John Freccero has emphasized the ways in which the opening landscape of Dante’s Commedia in Inferno I is hard to define precisely, likening it to the ‘region of unlikeness’ in the seventh book of Augustine’s Confessions, which was symbolic of a sinful, earthly life exiled from God.73 The emptiness of the landscape in this scene similarly creates a relatively hostile environment, which would encourage souls to leave it as soon as possible. As there is nothing enticing presented in this potentially earthly terrain, the aim of the fresco appears to be to spur the souls on towards Paradise. This image could therefore be seen as a didactic tool, which also encourages the viewer to follow the right spiritual path. Whilst the large expanse between the background and the foreground of the fresco appears to distance the viewer on Earth further from the afterlife landscape, this separation also seems to bring the viewer into closer proximity with the praying man in the foreground of the fresco, especially as there is only one
Sepulchral Symbolism (Leiden: Brill, 1954), p. 131; John White, Art and Architecture in Italy 1250 to 1400 (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1966), p. 270. 70 Borsook, p. 39. See also Höger, pp. 102-3; S’Jacob, p. 131; and White, p. 270. 71 Borsook, p. 39. 72 Borsook, p. 40. 73 John Freccero, ‘Dante’s Prologue Scene’, Dante Studies, 118 (2000), 189-216 (p. 189). On Augustine and the dark wood in Inferno I, see also Freccero, pp. 197-201.
129 figure, making it easier for an individual to identify with him. The viewer is therefore simultaneously encouraged to consider their current situation on Earth, as well as contemplating their place within the afterlife and their place at the end of time. This demonstrates the powerful impact that having two eschatological time frames within one image would have had upon the viewer, encouraging them to think about how to reach Christ in this life, and the next, before the Final Judgement. The importance of continuing the upward journey towards Christ is thus reinforced for the viewer by the landscape of the image. Given that, alongside the Last Judgement, this fresco contains some elements that are characteristic of the immediate, individual judgement that enabled penance, it is possible that Purgatory could also be represented here, especially when taking into account the broader context of the chapel. As we have seen, Brilliant argues that the background landscape represents all three realms of the afterlife alongside each other, with each realm occupying a significant position in relation to Christ. This tertiary division of a post- mortem landscape had rarely been seen before Dante introduced three separate realms of the afterlife in his Commedia, as medieval visual representations of the afterlife tended to follow a binary structure that seldom included Purgatory, and so this could hint at the influence of his creation. It is, however, quite difficult in this instance to differentiate between the three distinct realms observed by Brilliant here, as they are all rather similar barren rocky outcrops. The central mountain, which for Brilliant represents Purgatory, is bathed in light, signifying a more divine realm that is distinct from the darkness of Hell, just like Dante’s Purgatorio. However, the wood on the left, which she claims could represent Heaven or a heavenly antechamber, is in darkness. It is unlikely that Purgatory would be portrayed as a brighter and more divine realm than Heaven itself, and so this calls into question Brilliant’s tripartite division of the landscape. It is possible that this dark wood could instead be a reference to Dante’s ‘selva oscura’ (Inf., I. 2), where the pilgrim Dante begins his journey through the afterlife. Dante describes the wood as, ‘esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte’ (Inf., I. 5), which seems to resemble the gloomy atmosphere of the wood depicted in this fresco more closely than the Garden of Heaven suggested by Brilliant. Moreover, from his location in the dark wood, Dante pilgrim observes a ‘colle’ (Inf., I. 13):
Ma poi ch’i’ fui al piè d’un colle giunto, là dove terminava quella valle che m’avea di paura il cor compunto,
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guardai in alto e vidi le sue spalle vestite già de’ raggi del pianeta che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle (Inf., I. 13-18).
Although the dark wood in this fresco does not seem to be located in a valley, as is the case in Inferno, it would still be possible to view the central mountain bathed in light from the wood in the fresco, just as Dante does in this passage of the poem. The unknown function of the mountain in this fresco could therefore mirror the similarly ambiguous nature of the ‘colle’ (Inf., I. 13) in Dante’s poem, where it is unclear whether it represents Purgatory or a more abstract notion of virtue.74 Nevertheless, for Dante the mountain remains positive, representing hope and a means of leaving the ‘dark wood’ behind. Despite the uncertainty concerning what this mountain could represent, its central position, between the figure praying at the bottom of the image and Christ seen above, is striking in this fresco. Although it has been argued that the male figure is undergoing the Final Judgement, for which Purgatory would be obsolete, the upward gaze of the figure and his prayerful gesture, which in visual representations often distinguishes those undergoing purgation from those in Hell, draws the eye firstly towards the mountain and then up towards Christ.75 The prominence of the mountain in this composition appears to
74 On the different interpretations of the ‘colle’ in Inferno, see Dante Alighieri, Inferno, trans. by Jean Hollander and Robert Hollander (New York: Anchor, 2000), p. 14; Tristano Bolelli, ‘Il “dilettoso monte” del I canto dell’Inferno (v. 77)’, in Studi in onore di Alberto Chiari (Brescia: Paideia, 1973), pp. 165-68; Anthony Cassell, Lectura dantis americana: “Inferno” I (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), pp. 22-30; and Francesco Mazzoni, Saggio di un nuovo commento alla ‘Divina commedia’: ‘Inferno’, Canti I-III (Florence: Sansoni, 1967), pp. 58-60. 75 Souls seen praying whilst undergoing purgatorial punishment can be seen in manuscript illuminations, such as: Baltimore, The Walters Art Museum, Walters MS W.782, fol. 200r (‘Initial M with two souls kneeling in prayer in Purgatory’, Van Alphen Hours, mid-fifteenth century); Besançon, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 0069, p. 826
131 suggest that it facilitates a vertical trajectory towards Christ, which was the main purpose of Dante’s Purgatory, also located on a mountain.76 It is thus possible that the mountain in this fresco may have also been associated with Purgatory, and its central location could perhaps hint at the necessity of undertaking purgation in order to reach Christ at the end of time, as is seen in Dante’s Purgatorio. This fresco therefore seems to incorporate elements often associated with the particular judgement and Purgatory, namely the hope of transformation and the continued possibility of reaching Christ, in this life and the next, rather than depicting only the Last Judgement, by which point it would be too late to turn back to Christ. Moreover, the central position of the mountain motif, which Dante explicitly associated with hope and transformation on the journey to Christ through Purgatory, does perhaps hint that the mountain in this fresco could represent a means of transitioning towards Christ. This suggests there may be implicit engagement with Dante’s Purgatorio in this fresco. The Dantean tertiary afterlife that Brilliant argues for, however, is not immediately obvious, especially given the darkness of the landscape she attributes to Heaven. It is therefore difficult to state definitively if Purgatory is represented, whether on the mountain or elsewhere in the landscape of this fresco. Thus, although this fresco appears to encourage viewers to leave the ‘region of unlikeness’ in order to be reunited with God, just like Dante’s Commedia, it seems that Purgatory is not necessarily portrayed on the path to redemption and the precisely defined contours it acquires in Dante’s poem are not here maintained.
Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi The second fresco that I am examining dates from 1346 and has been attributed to the Sienese painter and architect Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio (c. 1315-1396).77 It is found in a choir chapel of the convent of San Francesco, situated on Via del Borgo Nuovo in the town of Todi in Umbria.78 The location of this fresco is significant, as Todi occupied an
Giovanni di Paolo (c. 1403- c. 1482), Cristo paziente e Cristo tronfante (c. 1420s-1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. 76 Brilliant, p. 342. 77 Tréinfhir, pp. 144-45. 78 The connection between Purgatory and the Monastero di San Francesco at Todi appears to have continued well into the eighteenth century, as seen by the inclusion of relics now housed in the Piccolo Museo del Purgatorio in Rome, located in the Parocchia Sacro Cuore in Prati. The burn marks of a hand, supposedly that of the deceased Fr. Panzini, former Abbot Olivetano of Mantua, are seen imprinted on a
132 important position on the path of numerous pilgrimage routes leading to Rome, including the Francigena way, between Canterbury and Rome, the Romea way, between Venice and Rome, and the Via dell’alpe di Serra, connecting the Emilian and Francigena ways.79 I have therefore chosen to study this fresco, which has often been considered one of the earliest representations of Purgatory as a separate realm of the afterlife, as it is likely that it would have been seen by many pilgrims on their way to Rome and this depiction of Purgatory could therefore have influenced a wide audience.80
Figure 34. Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi.
The fresco depicts a green mountain on the right-hand side, which contains seven dark caverns where the seven deadly sins are punished by demons (Figure 34). The three upper caverns represent, from left to right, avarice (avarizia), lust (lussuria) and pride (superbia), while the three lower caverns represent sloth (accidia), anger (ira) and envy
wooden table, alongside a mark of the cross, as well as on a sheet of paper, a tunic and a blood-stained chemise, all belonging to the Abbess of the Poor Clares in the Monastero di San Francesco at Todi, where the fresco we are analysing is located. This occurred on 1 November 1731, thereby demonstrating the continued relationship between this monastery and the doctrine of Purgatory. 79 Carla De Petris, ‘Saint Patrick’s Purgatory: A Fresco in Todi, Italy’, Studi Irlandesi, 2 (2012), 255-74 (p. 260). 80 See De Petris, p. 258; and Tréinfhir, p. 142. However, the little-studied Maso di Banco tomb fresco dates from c. 1330s and so could be an example of an even earlier representation of Purgatory.
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(invidia).81 Unfortunately, the cavern where gluttony (gola) is punished is not visible due to fresco damage.82 St. Patrick is depicted above the mountain next to a fiery hole that marks the entrance to this realm, whilst the exit is portrayed at the bottom left of the mountain, where souls dressed in white garments are pictured leaving Purgatory. These souls are crowned by the much larger figure of Mary, who acts as a link between the purgatorial mountain and the buildings on the left of the fresco, which represent the celestial city. The purged souls are also greeted by the figures of St. Filippo Benizi and St. Peter, who holds the keys to the entrance of the celestial city, before being welcomed into the city itself by an angel who awaits them at the gate on the far left of the fresco.83 Christ is pictured surrounded by angels on top of the city walls on the left, whilst angels fill the sky in the centre of the image. According to critics such as Noel Mac Tréinfhir and Carla de Petris, the fresco depicts St. Patrick’s Purgatory, itself a well-known pilgrimage site at Lough Derg, that many pilgrims would have been familiar with, whether having visited the site themselves, or having heard or read the numerous works of literature describing it, such as the famous Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii (c. 1180-84) written by the Cistercian monk Henry of Sawtry.84 Saint Patrick, depicted in the top right of the fresco, was believed to have had a direct vision of the afterlife at Lough Derg, which inspired the legend of the Irish knight named Owein. Owein was said to have entered the dark, underground realm of Purgatory at Lough Derg, seeing and experiencing horrible pains and torture, before returning to Earth having been purged of his sins and ready to tell everyone about his transformative experience. As we shall see, however, the ambiguous nature of the landscape and the layout suggest that this fresco does not solely demonstrate the influence of St. Patrick’s Purgatory. Indeed, in the mid-fourteenth century the convent of San Francesco was a Servite monastery called San Marco.85 Whilst it is not known who commissioned the Todi fresco, or the reasons why the subject of Purgatory was chosen, several critics have suggested that it was commissioned by a General of the Servites, either Pietro da Todi (1314-1344)
81 Mariangela Severi, ‘L’Arte del Purgatorio’, in Mirabilia: il pozzo di San Patrizio a Orvieto, ed. by Fabio Massimo Del Sole (Orvieto: Mirabilia Orvieto, 2015), p. 49. 82 Severi, p. 49. 83 Tréinfhir, pp. 155-56. 84 The Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii by Henry of Sawtry was translated into most European vernacular languages and often appeared in modified forms in chronicles, sermons and records of saints’ lives, as well as being recounted by various pilgrims to Lough Derg in diaries, letters and poems during the thirteenth century. See Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys, pp. 34-35. 85 This paragraph is informed by Tréinfhir, pp. 141-46, p. 156.
134 or Matteo da Città della Pieve (1344-48). This is largely due to the fact that St. Filippo Benizi, who had been Father General of the Servites from 1267 until his death in the convent on 22 August 1285, is depicted in the fresco, where he passes souls from the Madonna to St. Peter. Carla de Petris has suggested that the subject matter and the landscape in this fresco may therefore have been influenced by the Servites, especially as the Order was founded on Monte Senario, near Florence, and this mountain was also the place of Filippo Benizi’s ordination.86 The seven founders of the Order were said to have lived in seven grottos on the mountain, which may well have influenced Jacopo’s depiction of seven caverns within the mountain of Purgatory in this fresco.87 Whilst there is little evidence connecting the life and teaching of Benizi to the doctrine of Purgatory, as is suggested by his inclusion in this fresco, Benizi was said to have had a personal experience of the afterlife before he died where he envisioned that he was about to be subjected to the fire of Hell but was rescued by Mary and Christ, who crown him with ‘an imperishable crown of glory’.88 It is possible that elements of Benizi’s vision are therefore mirrored in this fresco, as is seen with the portrayal of Mary crowning the purged souls in particular. Given that the Servite order, or The Order of Servants of Mary, was particularly focused upon Marian devotion, it is also possible that the commissioners sought especially to underline the divine intervention of the Virgin, thereby suggesting, alongside the inclusion of aspects of Benizi’s vision, that this fresco may not have been designed purely as a representation of St. Patrick’s Purgatory. This ambiguity also becomes evident when looking at the different tortures represented in the seven caverns inside the mountain: the avaricious are nailed to the ground and strangled with their money purses; the lustful are lying promiscuously with each other as they are tortured; the proud are pushed by devils towards the jaws of a monster; the slothful have to cross a bridge full of nails or risk falling into a serpent
86 De Petris, p. 259. 87 De Petris, pp. 259-60. 88 De Petris, p. 260. Benizi’s vision is recorded by Davide Maria Montagna, La ‘legenda’ arcaica del Beato Filippo Benizi (Milan: Bibliotheca Servorum Mediolanensis, 1985), pp. 25-26: ‘Fratres mei carissimi, ego fui modo in magno certamine cum hoste antiquo umani generis, de multis me accusantie, ut me posset dampnare secum in gehennam, ignis eterni. Et erripuit me Dominus Nostus Jesus Christus a eo et beatissima Virgo Maria. Et ostenderunt mihi in celo incorruptibilem et ineffabilem coronam glorie mee’. (My dear brothers, I was engaged in a great struggle with the ancient enemy of the human race, who accused me of many things so that he could condemn me to be with him in the eternal fires of Hell. And the Lord Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary rescued me. And they showed me my imperishable and ineffable crown of glory in Heaven (translation my own)).
135 infested river below; the angry are attacked by a monster; and the envious are thrown into a stinking pot.89 Many of these tortures are not found in the legend of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, where the punishment is not even linked to individual sins. This suggests that there may be some influence from the wider medieval visionary tradition, or even Dante’s Purgatorio, which employs punishments to counter specific sins, a concept which, as Lino Pertile explains, ‘does not function merely as a form of divine revenge but, rather, as the fulfillment of a destiny that is freely chosen by each soul during his or her life’.90 The fact that the slothful are being actively made to cross a bridge could hint at this Dantean notion of purgatorial suffering and this is perhaps also evident in the suffering of the avaricious and the lustful here, although it is not particularly obvious in the other punishments that are depicted. However, it is possible that the wider influence of the medieval visions, which often amalgamated the punishments of the damned and the saved, could be seen, for example, in the representation of the slothful crossing a bridge. Whilst the legend of St. Patrick’s Purgatory includes a bridge, it is said to be impossibly slippery, narrow and high, and is located above a river of fire filled with demons.91 These characteristics do not seem to be replicated faithfully in this fresco, where the demons are instead on the bridge itself and there are serpents waiting beneath. Moreover, the bridge is fairly wide and covered in sharp nails, which are also not mentioned in St. Patrick’s Purgatory. These motifs can be found, however, in the wider medieval visionary tradition, where the imagery of a dangerous bridge that tests souls as they cross it was relatively common. Indeed, in the
89 Severi, p. 49. The punishment of the gluttons is no longer visible. 90 Lino Pertile, ‘Contrapasso’, in The Dante Encyclopedia, ed. by Richard Lansing (New York: Garland, 2000), pp. 219-22 (p. 220). On Dante’s use and understanding of contrapasso, see Richard Abrams, ‘Against the Contrapasso: Dante’s Heretics, Schismatics and Others’, Italian Quarterly, 27 (1986), 5-19; Peter Armour, ‘Dante’s Contrapasso: Context and Texts’, Italian Studies, 55 (2000), 1-20,
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Vision of Tundal (1149) thieves are punished by having to cross a long, narrow bridge covered in sharp iron nails, where fire-breathing monsters wait under the bridge for those who fall.92 Similarly, in Gregory the Great’s Dialogues, terrible creatures are said to emerge from the river below if a soul begins to fall off the bridge, while in Thurkill’s vision, the bridge is also covered in thorns and stakes.93 The inclusion of a bridge of nails with monsters beneath to punish the slothful in this fresco could therefore demonstrate the influence of numerous medieval visions and not just St. Patrick’s Purgatory. Moreover, the fate of the souls crossing the bridge in these visions remained uncertain, signalling a confused geography of the afterlife as the punishment could be either infernal or purgatorial. In this fresco, however, the imagery of the bridge is employed strictly within the confines of Purgatory. This shows that despite a distinct geographical space, the punishments of Purgatory here could still be associated with Hell. Thus, although there may be an element of linking the punishment to the sin, as seen in Dante, it is more likely that the appearance of the bridge in this fresco demonstrates the influence of other, more infernal, visionary traditions upon this representation of purgatorial punishment. This underlines that Dante’s version of Purgatory, for all its sophistication, was a single contribution to a much broader discourse spanning across centuries. The landscape that is depicted here also reflects the infernal characteristics of this portrayal of Purgatory. As we have seen, the representation of Purgatory as a realm separate from Hell was not evident in the medieval visions, and even though it had a distinct location in St. Patrick’s Purgatory, the inclusion of demons and the dark underground location still associated the realm predominantly with Hell. In the Todi fresco, Purgatory is portrayed as an independent realm of the afterlife and Saint Patrick is presented next to its fiery entrance, demonstrating the influence of legends of the Otherworld and medieval visions that often placed the mouth of Hell or Purgatory at the entrance to a volcano, such as Mount Etna.94 Even though this fresco uses the image of the mountain, also found in Dante’s Purgatorio, rather than representing the underground cave at St. Patrick’s Purgatory in Lough Derg, the purgatorial mountain is here presented as quite dark, containing seven enclosed caverns where each of the seven deadly sins,
92 Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner, p. 162. The influence of the Vision of Tundal is also noted by De Petris, pp. 258-59. See also Le Goff, pp. 186-89; and Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys, pp. 68-69. 93 Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner, p. 49, pp. 222-23. 94 Tréinfhir, p. 150; Patch, pp. 234-37.
137 taken from the writings of St. Gregory the Great, are punished.95 Unlike the seven terraces of Purgatorio, where the punishment for each of the seven deadly sins is also carried out, here there is no obvious means of transitioning between the seven sealed-off caverns, and the onward journey of the souls is therefore unclear. In Purgatorio, moreover, Dante includes exemplars of the virtue opposing the sin to be punished on each terrace in order to inspire the souls to be positively transformed, whereas Jacopo’s depiction of the caverns focuses purely on punishment. Whilst the souls do appear to exit eventually, there are no clear exits corresponding to each of these enclosed caverns of punishment, which therefore seem to be more similar to the Malebolge, or ‘evil pouches’, where sinners are tortured in the eighth circle of Dante’s Inferno. In this fresco, the violent punishment and the landscape in which it takes place therefore seem to associate the mountain more closely with representations of Hell. However, despite this reminder of Purgatory’s infernal past, in this fresco the celestial city is depicted alongside Purgatory, thereby also linking this middle realm to the heavenly; a divine association that is clearly present in Dante’s Purgatorio but which is not found in St. Patrick’s Purgatory.96 I would suggest, therefore, that this fresco could also demonstrate the influence of Dante’s conception of a more hopeful Purgatory, as, unlike the vision recorded in the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii where those who have entered St. Patrick’s Purgatory simply return to Earth, here we see some souls exiting the purgatorial mountain and moving on towards the celestial city.97 Moreover, the entrance to Purgatory here appears to have been constructed as a circular pit, which could resemble a well, on top of the mountain. Indeed, the cave of St. Patrick’s Purgatory was sometimes described as a well and even inspired the construction of Il pozzo di san Patrizio in Orvieto, which was completed in 1537.98 While the motif of descending into the well was often used as a means of fiery punishment, as in St. Patrick’s Purgatory, it also had ancient and biblical associations that saw the ascent out of the well as a source of life, transformation, and increased spiritual understanding, thereby demonstrating how this motif encapsulated both the punishment and hope of Purgatory.99 The imagery of the
95 De Petris, p. 258. 96 Tréinfhir, p. 156. 97 Tréinfhir, p. 153. 98 Mirabilia: il pozzo di san Patrizio a Orvieto, ed. by Fabio Massimo Del Sole (Orvieto: Mirabilia Orvieto, 2015), p. 177. 99 See Massimo Jevolella, ‘Il significato simbolico’, in Mirabilia: Il Pozzo di San Patrizio a Orvieto, ed. by Fabio Massimo Del Sole (Orvieto: Mirabilia Orvieto, 2015), p. 122, pp. 124-25. Jevolella underlines that
138 well could therefore reinforce the positive change that is possible in this fresco when the souls move from being contained below ground to the freedom out in the open. The dominant movement of the souls towards the celestial city in this fresco is from right to left, with the souls exiting from the bottom of the mountain, as opposed to ascending the mountain and leaving from the summit, as is seen in Purgatorio. During this horizontal progression, the souls are greeted by Mary, who provides the link between Purgatory and Paradise, before being passed from St. Filippo Benizi to St. Peter, and then on to an angel who welcomes them as they enter through the gate to the city.100 Unlike Purgatorio, here the exit from Purgatory and the entrance to Paradise are represented as clearly defined, physical gateways that are positioned opposite one another, although significantly the entrance to the celestial city is raised above the exit from Purgatory, perhaps symbolising the improved spiritual state of the souls in Paradise. The representation of physical entrances and exits thus helps to emphasize the journey taking place, as well as underlining the borders that must be crossed between these two separate realms of the afterlife. Alongside horizontal movement, there is also a suggestion of an upward trajectory, as the angels in the sky appear to welcome the new souls who gaze upward towards Mary and Paradise. This sense of vertical movement is reinforced by the depiction of Christ on the left surrounded by angels who, like the newly purged souls, all look up towards Him, thereby emphasizing that the ultimate goal for the souls is to ascend to the heavens to be united with Christ. The Todi fresco therefore portrays a geographically distinct space for Purgatory alongside the image of Christ in Paradise, thereby reinforcing the important function of this middle realm for saved souls on their way to Paradise. As well as the physical location of the realm, the use of colour in this fresco also seems to link Purgatory more closely to Paradise, which could hint at the influence of Purgatorio. For example, Jacopo’s choice of the colour green, which dominates the background of the mountain, could demonstrate the influence of Dante upon this fresco,
the well was often a sacred symbol, identified as a means of communication between the Heavens and the Earth, as well as a place of meeting for people in the Bible, especially in the context of marriage, thereby connoting a spiritual union with God (p. 127). He also writes that ‘il pozzo è stato sempre considerato dall’antica sapienza come una “ferita” della terra che genera la vita’ (p. 125), which could also apply to the souls in Purgatory who must undergo physical pain and degeneration in order to rise up again into new life (p. 126). The stinking, fiery well in the legend of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, on the other hand, is a form of punishment, which is itself filled with different punishments and which becomes deeper and wider as Owein descends. Owein is only able to exit the well when he says Jesus’s name, which releases him into the open air above (See Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Gardiner, pp. 141-42). 100 Tréinfhir, pp. 155-56.
139 as Tréinfhir has noted.101 When Dante pilgrim meets Beatrice towards the end of Purgatorio, he says, ‘sovra candido vel cinta d’uliva | donna m’apparve, sotto verde manto | vestita di color di fiamma viva’ (Purg., XXX. 31-33). Beatrice is dressed in the colours of the three theological virtues, also described in Purg., XXIX. 121-26; white for faith, green for hope and red for charity. Thus, for Dante, green represents hope, a virtue that ultimately seems to define Purgatorio, and the painters’ prominent use of green in this fresco could therefore hint at a similar conceptualization of Purgatory as a realm of hope. Indeed, the fresco is able to portray the positive outcome of purgatorial transformation as the souls are depicted continuing their journey into Paradise, as in Dante’s Purgatorio, rather than returning to Earth, as was the case for those undergoing purgation in the legend of St. Patrick’s Purgatory. The souls go from being naked as they undergo punishment in the mountain, to being clothed in white and holding their hands in a position of prayer as they leave, signifying their purity and divinity, and that they have been washed clean of their sins. In Purgatorio, Dante associates the colour white with the theological virtue of faith, a virtue that would have sustained the souls throughout their stay in Purgatory and which would have been a vital requirement for entry into Paradise. In the Empyrean, Beatrice shows Dante all the saved souls clothed in white robes, ‘quanto
è ’l convento de le bianche stole!’ (Par., XXX. 129), which have been seen to signify the bodies that will be reunited with the souls at the resurrection. The colour white is therefore associated with the final transformation of the souls, when they will be completely united with God. According to many of his commentators, here Dante is alluding to Revelation 7, in particular verses 9-14, and Tréinfhir suggests that the white clothes in this fresco could also be a reference to Revelation 7.14: ‘These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb’.102 Tréinfhir seems to emphasize the punitive function of Purgatory by associating it with ‘the great tribulation’ here, and yet the text demonstrates that these trials provide redemption. Thus, although this passage does not contain a direct reference to Purgatory, the use of the colour white, and its biblical association here, may have evoked the idea of hopeful and joyful transformation through suffering for the viewer, which was a central characteristic of Dante’s Purgatorio.
101 Tréinfhir, p. 150. 102 Tréinfhir, p. 155.
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Jacopo continues to communicate this sense of hope to the viewer through the portrayal of the Madonna in the fresco who, as we have already mentioned, crowns the purified souls in what seems to be a reference to Benizi’s vision, where he is given ‘an imperishable crown of glory’ by Mary and Christ who save him in the afterlife.103 Tréinfhir suggests that the imagery of the crown in this fresco could also refer to Revelation 2.10:
Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer. I tell you, the devil will put some of you in prison to test you, and you will suffer persecution for ten days. Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor’s crown.104
In this biblical passage, the crown is therefore associated explicitly with victory over death and signifies that the reward of eternal life is given to those who have suffered but remain faithful to God. Tréinfhir implies that these earthly tests and persecutions could also represent the purificatory journey through Purgatory, which is rewarded with an eternity in Paradise. The viewer is therefore encouraged to persevere through hardship, earthly or purgatorial, in the hope of receiving the crown of eternal salvation. This focus upon the joy of the eternal is reinforced by the two figures in the quadrants above the main fresco. On the right, Isaiah bears a scroll that reads: ‘consolamini, consolamini popule meus, dicit Dominus Deus vester, (comfort, comfort my people, says the Lord your God, Isaiah 40.1)’, whilst on the left a younger figure, thought to be Matthew, holds a scroll with the words: ‘Venite benedicti Patris mei possidete paratum vobis regnum a constitutione mundi’ [Come you blessed of my Father, enter into the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world. Matthew 2.2]’.105 The choice of these biblical passages emphasizes the joy and comfort that comes from eternal life with Christ, which is given to the souls in the fresco and also offered to the viewer of this image. The importance of finding comfort in Purgatory, emphasized particularly by the quote from Isaiah in the fresco, is similarly demonstrated in Dante’s Purgatorio where, for example, the soul Forese Donati equates his suffering to that of Christ:
io dico pena, e dovria dir sollazzo ché quella voglia a li alberi ci mena che menò Cristo lieto a dire ‘Elì,’ quando liberò con la sua vena. (Purg., XXIII. 72-75)
103 De Petris, p. 260. 104 Tréinfhir, p. 155. 105 Tréinfhir, pp. 157-58.
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By substituting ‘pena’ for ‘sollazzo’ (Purg., XXIII. 72) Donati emphasizes that the souls can be joyful in their suffering because they know that, like Christ, their pain will ultimately lead to salvation, and it is this hope for the future that comforts them.106 The emphasis placed upon ‘consolamini’ in this fresco similarly encourages the viewer to remember the higher purpose of the suffering represented in the purgatorial mountain. Dante also quotes the same passage from Matthew, ‘Venite, benedicti patris mei’ (Purg.,
XXVII. 58), which Dante pilgrim hears as he leaves the fire that punishes the lustful on the final terrace of Purgatory.107 As in the fresco, this welcoming call to the kingdom of heaven is heard on the threshold between Dante’s Purgatory and Paradise, encouraging those who have travelled this far to finally enter their heavenly destination. The use of this biblical passage, common in depictions of the Last Judgement, therefore underlines the importance of continuing the journey through Purgatory whilst also reinforcing, as is seen in both Dante’s Purgatorio and this fresco at Todi, that those who have completed purgation are now counted amongst the blessed. Like Purgatorio, Jacopo’s representation of Purgatory in this fresco therefore seems to be linked to the hope of Paradise. Given the mix of infernal and heavenly associations this fresco contains, and the numerous sources of potential influence, it is quite difficult to determine the precise nature of the Purgatory that it depicts. Following a positive influence approach, Dante’s Purgatorio may well have been one of many different models that Jacopo incorporated into his depiction of Purgatory. Although there are clear connections to St. Patrick’s Purgatory, the representation of the realm in this fresco is not necessarily a simple depiction of this legend. Indeed, in many instances Jacopo appears to fragment and reassemble elements of Dante’s Commedia, incorporating a Dantean concept of Purgatory with other medieval visionary traditions. By including the celestial city alongside Purgatory, for example, this fresco appears to offer more hope to the viewer, acting as a reminder that there is both pain and solace on the journey to salvation, as is also seen throughout Dante’s Purgatorio. Moreover, despite the portrayal of static and violent punishments administered by demons in Purgatory itself, this fresco still communicates a sense of progression and transformation, which, like Dante’s Purgatory, enables souls to reach Paradise eventually. While this can be seen to represent a ‘layered engagement’
106 See Gragnolati, Experiencing the Afterlife, pp. 136-37; and George Andrew Trone, ‘The Cry of Dereliction in Purgatorio XXIII’, Dante Studies , 113 (1995), 111-29,
142 with Dante, it is also an ‘implicit’ act of intertextuality as there is no external evidence to confirm Jacopo’s knowledge and/or use of Dante’s Purgatorio.108
Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico The next fresco that I am going to examine is by the painter Biagio di Goro Ghezzi, who was born c. 1325, was active in Siena from 1350, and who is thought to have died between 1384 and 1389.109 The fresco we are looking at was painted in 1368 in the Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo in Paganico, Tuscany. The church occupies a central position in the main square of this small town, which retains its medieval walls. The location of the church suggests that it may have formed a significant part of life in Paganico in the late fourteenth century. In its current state the church walls are quite bare, with some partial frescoes visible, but the single apse behind the altar remains completely frescoed with scenes depicting the birth of Christ (Figure 35).110
Figure 35. Main apse. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico. Photograph my own.
The back wall of the apse portrays the Annunciation, whilst the left and right walls are both divided into two sections. On the upper side of the left wall there is a large depiction of the Nativity and underneath there are three smaller scenes depicting the life of St. Michael the Archangel, after whom the church takes its name (Figure 36).
108 See Lyne, pp. 40-42; and The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9. 109 Gaudenz Freuler, Biagio di Goro Ghezzi a Paganico: l’affresco nell’abside della Chiesa di S.Michele (Florence: Electa, 1986), p. 102. 110 Even before their restoration in the 1960s the frescoes in the apse were in very good condition, largely because they were predominantly completed in buon fresco rather than fresco secco. See Freuler, pp. 17-21.
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Figure 36. Left wall. Top: Nativity. Bottom: The Life of St. Michael the Archangel. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico. Photograph my own.
Similarly, on the right wall of the apse, the upper section shows the Adoration of the Magi, whilst below in the centre St. Michael the Archangel is seen weighing souls in the afterlife, with possible representations of Purgatory on the left and Hell on the right (Figure 37). Unlike the lower fresco on the left wall, where borders are used to separate the three scenes, there are no visible divisions in the lower right fresco, although the image does seem to separate naturally into three sections.
Figure 37. Right wall. Top: Adoration of the Magi. Bottom: Allegory of the Afterlife. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico. Photograph my own.
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Freuler has emphasized the significance of the Umiliati for the commissioning of this fresco and for its inclusion of Purgatory.111 The Umiliati, who were active in the church and community of Paganico during the 1300s, were a religious order of men who wore modest clothing, followed a simple life of poverty and refused to take oaths.112 Freuler suggests that the main audience for this fresco would have been the friars themselves, as he suggests that the theology presented in the image is specific to the lifestyle of the order and would have been too complicated for the laity to comprehend. Indeed, he implies that the fresco mainly functioned as a reminder to the Umiliati of the importance of work and Christian charity (embodied by the two figures kneeling next to St. Michael), which defined their lives as members of the order. Moreover, the location of the fresco in the main apse, which Freuler claims would have been a choir chapel, could only be accessed by the friars, who used the space for meditation and pious exercises. This could suggest that the doctrine of Purgatory that is depicted here was perhaps not widely taught to the laity at the time, remaining a subject of discussion predominantly amongst the educated, religious orders. Whilst the fresco may originally have been created for the Umiliati, the images might still have been seen by the general populace. The frescoes are large, taking up the entire width of the wall, and so may have been visible to those approaching the altar.113 Moreover, the rectangular layout of the church may well have influenced the impact this fresco would have had upon churchgoers. The single nave, as well as the fact that there are no smaller chapels for private devotion located at the sides, help draw attention to the frescoes at the far end. The relative dominance of these frescoes may consequently have helped shape views of the afterlife and the particular judgement amongst the laity as well.
111 This paragraph is informed by Freuler, p. 96. 112 The Umiliati order initially preached without authorization, for which they were excommunicated, before being reorganized by Pope Innocent III in 1201, although they were eventually suppressed as an order in 1571. See The Concise Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. by E. A. Livingstone (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014)
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Figure 38. Right wall. Bottom, detail: Allegory of the Afterlife. Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico. Photograph my own.
In the centre of L’allegoria dell’oltretomba a large figure of St. Michael the Archangel is depicted holding a soul kneeling in prayer in each hand as he weighs their actions to ascertain their ultimate destination after death (Figure 38). Unlike Maso di Banco’s tomb fresco, where Christ is pictured as judge, here the surrounding frescoes portray Christ as a child and it is instead St. Michael who is seen judging the salvation of souls, thereby underlining his importance for the commissioners of this fresco. The weighing of souls to determine their otherworldly fate was often linked with St. Michael the Archangel, who appears in such depictions of the individual judgement as early as the twelfth century in the Italian peninsula.114 The association of the church, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, with this saint could therefore explain the presence of the particular judgement and the inclusion of Purgatory in this fresco.115 The imagery of weighing
114 Brilliant, p. 328. 115 St Michael is also presented weighing souls in Lorenzo Di Niccolò’s predella of the life of St. Lawrence, see Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Intercedes for the Soul of Emperor Henry II, c. 1412, predella panel, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York; and Andrea di Cione (called Orcagna), Strozzi Altarpiece, 1354-57, predella panel, Santa Maria Novella, Florence. As we shall see later, Giovanni di Paolo also depicts St. Michael the Archangel in between the realms of Purgatory and Hell in his altarpiece Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante, although the saint is not shown weighing souls, see Giovanni di Paolo (c. 1403- c. 1482), Cristo paziente e Cristo tronfante (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca
146 scales when judging souls originated in ancient Egypt and developed in the West from the twelfth century, where it was regularly used in Last Judgement scenes.116 Depictions of Michael and the particular judgement were often visually inconsistent, however, as Michael was never associated by any text with the motif of weighing souls.117 Brilliant suggests that Italian artists in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries may have instead taken the weighing motif from Byzantine images of the Last Judgement.118 Although in some depictions Michael holds the scales himself, here he only holds the balance pans, suggesting that the scales, which extend into the image of the Adoration of the Magi above, may instead be held by a divine hand.119 The scales in this fresco are perfectly balanced and whilst this could imply that the fate of the souls is uncertain at the moment depicted, and salvation or damnation are thus equally possible, Freuler claims that the souls in the scales are saved as they are shown to be protected from the demon by St. Michael.120 If this is the case then the souls are presumably destined for Purgatory, but their fate at this point does not seem completely certain; an ambiguity which would perhaps encourage the viewer to consider his or her life on Earth in light of his or her potential fate in the afterlife. On the ground kneeling at St. Michael’s feet are two figures, a woman on the left and a man on the right, whose souls are judged above them. The woman holds a distaff, a tool used in spinning, as well as two wooden rods and a woollen dress, and the man holds a hoe, a basket and a jug of wine.121 As Freuler has shown, the representation of these two figures forms a link between this life and the next, as they hold symbols of their working lives on Earth whilst gazing up at their own souls being judged in the afterlife. This
Nazionale, Siena. On the imagery of St. Michael see also Brilliant, pp. 328-32; George Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints in Tuscan Painting (Florence: Sansoni, 1952), pp. 613-24; and Colette Beaune, ‘Michael, Archangel’, in Encyclopedia of the Middle Ages, ed. by André Vauchez (Cambridge: James Clarke & Co., 2005)
147 association is also physically portrayed in this image, as Freuler identifies two faint fibres with stars at the top that serve to connect the work of the souls on Earth to the eternal light of the stars, thereby establishing works as a direct means of salvation. There are also scrolls contained within this image, which offer the figures’ defence of themselves. In the scroll next to the female figure she highlights her ‘lamosina’, or charity, on Earth: ‘Del mio filato lamosina feci quaggiu al povaro che ciese in tua vecie’, whilst the male figure underlines his ‘sudore’ in reference to physical labour: ‘Vissi nel mondo e del mie sudore e di (pe)ne per lo tuo amore’.122 Freuler explains that the symbols of work associated with each figure are here explicitly linked to charity and manual labour as these were central to the way of life for those in the Umiliati order, who were required to serve others in this way. On the right there is a jagged, rocky landscape, interspersed with thorny plants, and the entrance to a dark cave is clearly visible. A large demon is pictured having just flown out of the cave and the naked soul of a woman appears to be walking unwillingly towards the cave, as she leans backwards with her hands behind her back. It is not particularly clear if this cave and the surrounding barren landscape is meant to represent Hell, especially as there is no punishment taking place and the demon appears to be ignoring the soul beneath. This contrasts with other representations of both Hell and Purgatory where demons are often pictured grasping souls and torturing them.123 Indeed, the lack of violent, punitive imagery here does not inspire the fear of Hell and the cave may even hint at the influence of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, which was located in an underground cave. Freuler explains, however, that the small scrolls placed within the image help to describe the scene and the function of the figures, and here the writing on the scroll explicitly associates the demon with the infernal: ‘I so mortal nimica d’ogni bene serva del diavolo donna dello ferno madre di dolore in sempiterno’.124 Moreover, Freuler argues
122 Freuler, p. 90. 123 For examples of demons seizing or torturing souls in Purgatory, see Cenni di Francesco, Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles; Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1412, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York; Heidelberg, University Library Heidelberg, MS Pal. Germ. 144, fol. 338r
148 that the thorny plants in the landscape actually represent a punishment for the sin of Sloth, as is seen for example in the Todi fresco where the slothful are forced to cross a bridge covered in thorns.125 He claims this sin would have been of particular relevance to the Umiliati, for whom the opposing virtue, namely active service and manual labour to help others, was of the utmost importance.126 Whilst souls are not seen actively undergoing punishment in Hell, the fresco may therefore hint at a condemnation of the slothful by including these thorny plants in the infernal landscape. To the left of St. Michael there is a pit of fire with souls submerged to varying degrees, which, according to Freuler, demonstrates the influence of St. Patrick’s well and the growing perception of purgation as a sort of baptism by fire, as is also seen by the resemblance of this pit to the fiery well at the entrance to Purgatory in the Todi fresco.127 The pit here represents a geographically separate realm for Purgatory, as is seen in Dante’s Commedia, which could hint at the implicit influence of Dante’s tripartite conception of the afterlife. There are pairs of hands and feet visible, as well as a monk’s tonsured head and what appears to be a mother and her two children. There are also two souls whose upper torsos are above the flames and they extend their hands up in prayer. One soul to the left of the image is being helped out of the pit by a large crowned figure of the Madonna, who leans towards the soul and grasps his or her hands. Four angels are pictured to the left of Mary and they hold her robe, whilst above the pit of fire there is a winged figure seated amongst lilies that sprout from within the flames below. Freuler has argued that the souls in the well of fire represent different stages of penitence, as seen in the Catholic Sacrament of Penance, which involved contrition, confession and satisfaction, and which, once completed, would lead to joyful union with God.128 Indeed, Freuler underlines how medieval Christians often perceived purgatorial purification as a continuation of penance on Earth, thereby demonstrating the ways in which the theology of this fresco emphasizes the connection between the earthly and the otherworldly.129 According to Freuler, the figure of the melancholy woman with her face resting on her hand represents the recognition of sin, known as contrition. Her distinctive pose and sorrowful expression would have been easily recognisable in the medieval
125 Freuler, p. 94. 126 Freuler, p. 94. 127 Freuler, p. 81, p. 87. 128 Freuler, p. 88. 129 Freuler, p. 88.
149 period as traits associated with this early stage of penitence.130 The inclusion of this figure here therefore helps to underline the absolute necessity of contrition in order to obtain salvation in the afterlife. Meanwhile, the expiation of the sin, known as satisfaction, is embodied by the souls immersed most deeply in the flames.131 The fact that only parts of the body, such as hands, feet or a head, are visible highlights the extremity of the punishment, which involves the entirety of the souls’ being. The pained expression on the monk’s face emphasizes the arduous nature of the purification process, as well as serving as a reminder, perhaps for the friars of the Umiliati in particular, that this future awaits all levels of society in the afterlife. Nevertheless, the hands that emerge from the flames are in a position of prayer, thereby highlighting that hope in God remains throughout this purgatorial torment. This is further emphasized by the two souls who are more visible above the flames and who raise their hands in prayer, representing the stage of supplication, as they gaze towards the figure above.132 This female figure is said to be the allegorical figure of Hope, who, according to medieval theology, acted as an important stimulus and source of comfort for those undertaking Christian penitence. In this fresco she is presented as a protector of those undergoing purgation and her significance is demonstrated by her dominant position, seated on a bed of lilies above the pit of Purgatory. The figure of Hope is thus here intrinsically linked to Purgatory, as she seems to have emerged directly from the flames, to which she remains connected by the lilies. Freuler has suggested that this signifies for the Christian viewer that hope can be born from repentance and the act of penance. This imagery of birth and growth could also emphasize that the purifying flames give way to new life, as Hope, and the beautiful lilies surrounding her, are shown to be growing out of Purgatory. As Robert M. Durling and Ronald L. Martinez explain, lilies were usually associated with the Bride and the Resurrection in the Bible.133 This biblical
130 Freuler demonstrates that these physical characteristics of contrition even appear in Dante’s Rime: ‘Dolesi l’una con parole molto, | e ’n la man si posa | come succisa rosa: | il nudo braccio, di dolor colonna, | sente l’oraggio che cade dal volto, | l’altra man tiene ascosa | la faccia lagrimosa’ (Rime. CIV. 19-25) (p. 89). 131 Freuler, p. 88. 132 This paragraph is informed by Freuler, pp. 88-90. 133 Ronald L. Martinez and Robert M. Durling, The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, 3 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996-2011), II: Purgatorio (2003), p. 521. Moreover, as Hollander underlines, lilies were often associated with the chastity of Mary, as seen in images of the Annunciation where the
150 association could further emphasize the new life in loving union with Christ that awaits the souls in Purgatory. Dante also mentions lilies when he meets Beatrice at the top of Mount Purgatory, similarly linking these flowers to the joyful end of purgation: ‘Tutti dicean: “Benedictus qui venis!” | e fior gittando e di sopra e dintorno, | “Manibus, oh, date lilïa plenis!”’ (Purg., XXX. 19-21).134 Moreover, Hollander shows that Dante identifies the apostles as lilies, ‘quivi son li gigli | al cui odor si prese il buon cammino”’
(Par., XXIII. 74-75), thereby identifying these flowers with the idea of leading souls on the correct path towards salvation.135 The inclusion of lilies above the pit of Purgatory in this fresco could therefore mirror this idea, as the symbolic importance of the flowers, like that of Hope, seems to help spur souls on towards their divine destination.136 As is seen in Dante’s Commedia, then, the lilies in this fresco could represent the new life and union with God that is found at the end of the path to salvation, which consequently associates these flowers with hope and not death. The position of Hope above Purgatory, however, means that the souls must move horizontally towards the divine, and not vertically as in Dante’s Purgatorio. Nevertheless, the presence of Hope in this image places purgatorial punishment within the wider context of eternity, underlining that those in the flames will eventually enter Paradise. This is reiterated by the scroll to the right of the figure, which reads: ‘Sola vita di ciascheun fedele chome el fuoco fa l’oro purificho e prugando l’anime santificho’.137 Purifying the soul so that it can reach God therefore takes precedence over fiery punishment in this representation of Purgatory. As we have seen, this assurance of salvation for those undergoing purgation appeared for the first time in Dante’s Purgatorio, which is similarly characterized as a realm of hope, linked to Paradise and not Hell, where the punishment has a defined purpose that allows it to be undertaken in joyful anticipation of the coming union with God. Unlike many visual representations of
angel Gabriel often carries a lily to represent this (Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 679). As Mary is pictured next to these flowers in the Paganico fresco, and the Annunciation is also depicted on the back wall of this fresco cycle, the inclusion of lilies here could therefore also serve to underline her chastity. 134 As Hollander has underlined, the Latin quote used here by Dante comes from Virgil’s Aeneid (VI. 883), where lilies are linked with mourning the death of Marcellus (Hollander, pp. 678-79). However, for Dante the lilies seem to have a more positive and celebratory connotation, which may be associated instead with the passage in Song of Songs 2. 1, where the bride describes herself as a ‘lily of the valley’ (Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 679). 135 Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 679. 136 The association of lilies with the apostles is further underlined by Jacopo della Lana, who claims in his commentary to Paradiso, XXIII. 74 that the white of the lily represents faith, whilst the vermilion of the inner petals symbolizes incorruptibility and charity, and their fragrance signifies preaching and hope. 137 Freuler, p. 90.
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Purgatory, then, where the fate of the souls after death is ambiguous, here Purgatory appears to be a realm that is only for the saved. As the certainty of salvation for the penitent in this fresco is also found in Dante’s Purgatorio, it can be seen to represent an ‘implicit’ act of intertextuality.138 The soul being removed from the pit by Mary demonstrates the final state of divine joy, known as the gaudium.139 The scroll to the left of the figure of Hope reads: ‘N questa madre di misericordia ne la quale incharno e dio verace questa e datrice d’ogni pace’, thereby underlining the divine and merciful role of the Madonna in the context of releasing souls from Purgatory.140 In this fresco she is much larger than the souls in Purgatory, emphasizing her importance, and she is depicted with both a halo and a crown, highlighting her divinity but also her role, superior to that of the angels, as ‘Regina di misericordia’. Freuler explains that Mary was thought to have liberated many souls from Purgatory on the day of her Assumption, when she was crowned in Heaven. She began to be seen as a helper for souls in Purgatory following the Second Council of Lyons (1272- 74) but this association became particularly strong in the fourteenth century, when the first images of the Virgin saving souls from Purgatory began to appear. One of the first such images, according to Freuler, is the Madonna che libera le anime del purgatorio, found in the Basilica di Santa Maria dei Servi in Siena (Figure 39).
138 See Lyne, pp. 40-42. 139 This paragraph is informed by Freuler, pp. 87-88. 140 Freuler, p. 87.
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Figure 39. Madonna del Purgatorio, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena. Photograph my own.
This fresco fragment is part of a wider cycle of frescoes depicting the Giudizio universale by an unknown Sienese painter and dates from the second half of the fourteenth century. It shows Mary, with angels holding her robe behind her, as she reaches to the right with both arms. On the right, there are hands that can be seen reaching out towards her in prayer, but the location of these souls is not visible. This is because the fresco was unfortunately severely damaged during construction work in the sixteenth century and is now in a frame for preservation purposes.141 There are, however, five souls, both male and female, who can be seen dressed in white robes and crowned with white flowers as they move from right to left escorted by an angel. As these souls are clearly saved, this fresco presents quite a holy view of Purgatory, as a realm leading to a state of blessedness in Paradise. We are, however, only seeing the end result of purgation in this image and so it is difficult to know how this artist perceived the realm of Purgatory itself. Although this fresco is not positioned exactly where it would have been originally, the frescoes of
141 Freuler, p. 87.
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Paradise and Hell on the surrounding walls demonstrate that Purgatory was nevertheless depicted as a realm independent from Hell in this fresco cycle (Figures 40 and 41). The representation of Hell shows souls immersed to different degrees in numerous pits of fire, guarded by black demons (Figure 42). The image of these pits of fire, with only certain body parts visible in the flames, is very similar to the representation of Purgatory in the Paganico fresco, suggesting that this fiery imagery was applied in both an infernal and purgatorial context. This can also be seen by the presence of demons in the Todi representation of Purgatory, thereby demonstrating how the two realms were sometimes represented using the same iconography.
Figures 40 and 41. Giudizio universale, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena. Photographs my own.
Figure 42. Giudizio universale, detail: Hell, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena. Photograph my own.
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This use of corresponding imagery in representations of Purgatory can also be seen, as Freuler has noted, when considering the depiction of the Madonna in Santa Maria dei Servi in Siena (Figure 43), which bears striking similarities to the depiction of the Madonna both in the Paganico fresco (Figure 44) and also in the fresco at Todi (Figure 45), examined above.142
Figure 43. Siena Figure 44. Paganico Figure 45. Todi
In these three frescoes, Mary is depicted as a very large figure in long, pale robes on the left of each image, who leans towards the souls in Purgatory with both hands stretched out towards them.143 Unlike Todi, the frescoes in Siena and Paganico both show a group of angels behind Mary, holding her robe. Freuler explains that this inclusion of angels may have originated from the patristic idea that St. Michael liberated souls from Purgatory on his feast day and enabled custodian angels to guide and protect the free souls as they left Purgatory.144 In this case, however, Mary has taken the position of St. Michael as a liberator for the souls in Purgatory. In the representations of this realm in
142 Freuler, pp. 84-87. 143 In the Siena and Todi frescoes the Madonna is pictured wearing a veil, whilst in the Paganico fresco she wears a crown. 144 Freuler, p. 87.
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Siena and Todi, the Madonna is pictured crowning the souls as they leave Purgatory, signifying that they are purified only once they have left the realm and thereby giving a greater sense of the holy nature of the realm they are moving into. The soul being freed in the Paganico fresco, however, already appears to be crowned with flowers while still partially submerged in the purgatorial fire (Figure 44). This suggests the close integration of purgatorial suffering with the blessed state itself because although the soul is at the end of the process of purification, he or she achieves a state of blessedness, represented by the crown of flowers, while still in the flames of purgation. Purgatory is thus even more explicitly associated with reaching a blessed state in this fresco. However, this state of blessedness is not mirrored in the colours used in this image, which are mainly quite dark shades of grey, green and black, and which form a sombre background that remains the same for the whole image. The lighter colours and the use of gold often associated with representations of Paradise do not appear in the background of Mary and the angels, which remains dark, creating confusion as to where one realm of the afterlife may end, and another begin. Moreover, unlike the other two representations, in the fresco at Paganico Mary is bent further down towards the soul and grasps his or her hands, underlining her active and physical role in freeing the souls from the flames.145 The need for such physical intervention, however, suggests that Purgatory is a place from which one must be saved, thereby also hinting at similarities with the infernal. Unlike the other depictions we have seen, then, the Paganico fresco does not show the souls entering Paradise. Although there is definite movement apparent, as a soul is being removed from the flames of Purgatory, and vertical movement is hinted at by the different immersion of the bodies in the flames, the souls ultimately remain in the purgatorial pit of fire. There is thus no clear path towards Paradise and, whilst the salvation of the purged
145 This active intervention of the Madonna resembles that of St. Lawrence in a predella panel from the Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints (c. 1390s) by Cenni di Francesco, and in a predella panel of Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory (c. 1412) by Lorenzo di Niccolò, which we will analyse in chapter three. Moreover, it resembles a fragmentary fresco in the Chiesa di San Lorenzo in Vicchio di Rimaggio, dated 1390s. Although this fresco is dark and damaged, it is still possible to see St. Lawrence holding a banner on the right, accompanied by two angels who crown two of the elect with flowers. This suggests that St. Lawrence may be liberating souls from Purgatory, although the realm itself is not included. Like the fresco in Siena, which is also incomplete, we seem to see only the final stages of purgation as the souls enter Paradise by climbing up a small ladder. This fresco demonstrates the use of similar iconography to those examined above, particularly when the saint bridges the gap between Purgatory and Paradise to liberate souls and when souls are depicted in a state of blessedness as they move towards Paradise. The presence of St. Lawrence or Mary in these frescoes therefore hints at the perceived necessity of saintly intercession to save souls from Purgatory in the second half of the fourteenth century. See Strehlke, p. 27. Giovanna Mattei has also written a very informative leaflet on the artworks in the Chiesa di San Lorenzo at Vicchio di Rimaggio.
156 souls is assured in the Paganico fresco, as in Dante’s Purgatorio, the lack of physical movement makes it harder to establish the link between Purgatory and Paradise in this representation. The inclusion of the Madonna does imply that the souls will move on to a divine realm, but this is not suggested by the landscape or the colour scheme of the fresco. Indeed, the souls are not shown ascending steps to reach the gate of Paradise, as in the representation at Todi, but remain on one level, further emphasizing the uniformity of the landscape represented in this image. When compared to Maso di Banco’s tomb fresco, the Paganico fresco contains a more obviously independent representation of purgatorial punishment, but the precise extent of the realm and its possible boundaries with Hell and Paradise in this image are still ambiguous. The landscape depicted in the Paganico fresco consequently does not offer a realm for Purgatory that is as clearly defined, both geographically and spiritually, as that found in Dante’s Purgatorio. While offering his own distinct conception of the afterlife, Biagio does hint at the assurance of salvation for those in an independent realm of Purgatory, which could represent an implicit ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio. As well as Dante, we have seen that there are many other possible ‘tributaries’ that may also be contributing to Biagio’s depiction of Purgatory, including the role of the Umiliati, the visionary tradition of St. Patrick’s Purgatory and the importance of St. Michael for this particular church and monastic order. Biagio’s image of Purgatory thus evidences the wider artistic practice of re-producing and re-formulating existing models for a new purpose.
Bartolomeo di Tommaso, Purgatory, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni The final fresco that I am going to analyse is by Bartolomeo di Tommaso and it dates from c. 1445-50.
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Figure 46. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, Purgatory, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. Purgatory. Photograph my own.
Bartolomeo’s depiction of Purgatory is found on the left wall of the Cappella Paradisi, located in the right apse of the Chiesa di San Francesco in Terni, Umbria (Figure 46). I have chosen to analyse this detailed fresco as, apart from Luca Signorelli’s frescoes at Orvieto, it is said to be ‘the most complete representation in Italian art of the apocalyptic future’, and yet it has been studied by relatively few scholars.146 Those who have published research on it include Zeri, Grassini, Adorno, and most recently Riess.147 The depiction of Purgatory occupies the entire lower section of the east wall. It portrays a rocky, underground landscape, very similar to that found in the Todi fresco, with caverns where the seven deadly sins are punished. However, probably due to fresco damage, there are only five sins visible that are punished, namely accidia (sloth), vanagloria (pride), avarizia (avarice), ira (wrath) and lussuria (lust).148 The sins of gluttony and envy,
146 Riess, p. 17. 147 Adorno, 3-18; Grassini, 184-89; and Zeri, ‘Bartolomeo di Tommaso da Foligno’, 41-64. 148 Riess, p. 49.
158 included in the Todi fresco and Dante’s Purgatorio, are therefore missing.149 Unlike the Todi fresco, these purgatorial caverns are not situated alongside the celestial city. Instead, in a separate section of fresco above Purgatory to the left, souls are shown entering Paradise with the help of numerous angels, whilst above Purgatory on the right there is a depiction of Christ in Limbo at the Harrowing of Hell (Figure 47). On the opposite wall there is a representation of Hell (Figure 48), whilst the south wall at the back of the chapel depicts the Last Judgement, Christ in Glory, and Paradise (Figure 49).150
Figure 47. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. East Wall. Bottom: Purgatory, Top Left: Souls entering Paradise, Top Right: The Harrowing of Hell.
149 On the history of the seven deadly sins, see Morton W. Bloomfield, The Seven Deadly Sins: An Introduction to the History of a Religious Concept, with Special Reference to Medieval English Literature (East Lansing: Michigan University Press, 1952); Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I sette vizi capitali: storia dei peccati nel Medioevo (Turin: Einaudi, 2000); Lester K. Little, ‘Pride Goes before Avarice: Social Change and the Vices in Latin Christendom’, American Historical Review, 76 (1971), 16- 59; Christian Moevs, ‘Triform Love: The Structure of the Commedia’, in Dante and the Seven Deadly Sins, ed. by John C. Barnes and Daragh O’Connell (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2017), pp. 11-46 (pp. 13-17); Richard G. Newhauser, The Treatises on Vices and Virtues in Latin and the Vernacular (Turnhout: Brepols, 1993); The Seven Deadly Sins: From Communities to Individuals, ed. by Richard G. Newhauser (Leiden: Brill, 2007); Siegfried Wenzel, ‘Dante’s Rationale for the Seven Deadly Sins (Purgatorio XVII),’ Modern Language Review, 60 (1965), 529-33; Siegfried Wenzel, ‘The Seven Deadly Sins: Some Problems of Research’, Speculum, 43 (1968), 1-22; Siegfried Wenzel, The Sin of Sloth: Acedia in Medieval Thought and Literature (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1967). 150 Riess, p. 48.
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Figure 48. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. West Wall: Hell.
Figure 49. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. South Wall. The Last Judgement, Christ in Glory, and Paradise. Photograph my own.
There are certain elements of Bartolomeo’s Purgatory that seem, like Dante’s Purgatorio, to associate the realm with Paradise. As Riess has noted, there are angels in this depiction of Purgatory, which were also a characteristic feature of Purgatorio. The inclusion of angels helps to suggest that this is a realm for the saved, a fact that was not made clear in the medieval visionary tradition where demons, more commonly associated with Hell, often administered the purgatorial punishment, as is also seen in the Todi
160 fresco. For the viewer, the presence of angels may therefore have brought Dante’s more heavenly conception of Purgatory to mind. The location of Purgatory in this fresco has, however, led to some confusion surrounding Bartolomeo’s theological conception of the role of this realm for salvation. On the one hand, the fact that next to Purgatory there are souls portrayed entering Paradise with the help of angels, in the upper left section of the fresco on the same wall, helps to link these two realms closer together than Purgatory and Hell (Figure 47). It also implies that the souls will eventually move from Purgatory to Paradise, even though the exact pathway is not clearly depicted. Dante’s Purgatorio was possibly the first literary work to associate Purgatory with Paradise explicitly and, in that respect, the inclusion of souls entering Paradise in this fresco demonstrates how these Dantean ideas continued to appear in later visual representations of Purgatory through ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality.151 The influence of Dante could also initially be seen, for example, by the fact that the angels in the fresco help to give a sense of the souls’ movement, as they reach towards the souls to get them out of the caverns that depict, like Purgatorio, an organised system of punishment for the seven deadly sins.152 The onward movement of souls was fundamental to Dante’s Purgatorio, which aimed to allow souls to journey to Paradise, but in this fresco the suggestion of movement does not seem to link Purgatory to Paradise so clearly. Whilst Bartolomeo, like Dante, creates a realm for Purgatory that is geographically distinct from Hell, his Purgatory is painted as a separate scene with no apparent exit, which serves to seal it off from Paradise as well. Indeed, the action of the angels reaching towards the souls in this image could actually suggest that the souls are trapped and desperately want to leave the punishment, which, where it can be discerned, does not resemble that found in Dante’s Purgatorio.153 Thus, rather than yearning to reach God and accepting their fate like the souls in Dante’s Purgatory, here the portrayal of the souls undergoing punishment and looking to the angels for help, with no clear exit being visible, seems to imply that this is a more infernal realm than Purgatorio. The prominence given to Christ in Limbo in this fresco (Figure 50) has also led some scholars, such as Riess, to argue that Bartolomeo’s Purgatory is actually more closely
151 See Lyne, pp. 40-42. 152 Riess, p. 49. 153 Riess, pp. 164-65. Riess claims that the only punishment that can be clearly seen in Bartolomeo’s fresco is that of the lustful depicted in the bottom right of the fresco, who are submerged in water, as opposed to the flames described by Dante that punish the lustful in Purgatorio XXV.
161 aligned with Hell.154
Figure 50. Bartolomeo di Tommaso, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni. Left: Souls entering Paradise, Right: The Harrowing of Hell.
This is because the concept of Limbo, often split into the Limbo of the Fathers, represented here, and the Limbo of the unbaptized children, developed as one of the many different divisions of Hell that began to appear in theological texts such as the City of God and the Enchiridion by Augustine, and the Moralia in Job and the Dialogues by Gregory the Great.155 Limbo was increasingly seen as a place for those plagued only by original sin, not for those who were personally responsible for sin and who would consequently end up in either Purgatory or Hell proper.156 The Limbo of the Fathers, portrayed in this fresco, was emptied at the Harrowing of Hell, when Christ descended into Hell to save the righteous who had died before His coming, and it remained empty after Christ’s descent, when Hell was completely sealed off from the rest of the Christian afterlife. Despite this, Bartolomeo appears to emphasize the importance of Limbo for the souls’ journey through the afterlife. This is seen, for example, when examining the angel in golden robes situated to the upper left of the lustful in Purgatory, who are punished in the bottom right of the fresco (Figure 47). This angel appears to be indicating the way out of Purgatory and points towards the image of Christ in Limbo, rather than the souls arriving
154 Riess, p. 49. 155 Le Goff, pp. 69-74, pp. 88-91, and pp. 220-21. 156 On the treatment of Limbo in visionary and theological sources see Jeffery Burton Russell, Lucifer: The Devil in the Middle Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), p. 205; Adolf Harnack, History of Dogma, trans. by William M. Gilchrist, 7 vols (London: Little, Brown and Company, 1895-1908), VI (1899), 261; and Le Goff, pp. 237-88.
162 in Paradise, thereby creating confusion surrounding the souls’ final destination and the direction in which they must travel having exited Purgatory. The position of Limbo at the top of the wall disrupts the flow of Purgatory, which has to culminate on the upper left- hand side of the fresco where souls are seen entering Paradise (Figure 50).157 Whilst Purgatory itself is portrayed at the bottom of the wall opposite Hell, the status of Limbo is elevated towards Paradise, given its position above Purgatory and the fact that it is directly adjacent to Bartolomeo’s depiction of Paradise on the back wall of the chapel. The position of Limbo in relation to Purgatory therefore means that it is not immediately obvious if the souls, once purged, are counted amongst the blessed. The fact that Purgatory is portrayed as a geographically independent realm can thus also serve in this instance to accentuate its separation from Paradise. Dante’s independent realm for Purgatory is thus reformulated by Bartolomeo for a different purpose here, demonstrating a ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s text. Indeed, unlike Dante’s Purgatorio, the progress of the soul’s journey out of Purgatory and towards salvation is not made particularly clear in this fresco. This geographical confusion also demonstrates the ways in which Bartolomeo’s spiritual understanding of Purgatory differs from that of Dante. Riess claims that the presence of Limbo associates Bartolomeo’s Purgatory more closely with St. Patrick’s Purgatory at Lough Derg, where souls would mimic Christ’s descent into Hell by entering an underground cave in which they experienced what Riess terms a ‘temporary hell’.158 He notes, for example, that the similarly rocky, underground landscape and gloomy character of Bartolomeo’s Purgatory are more commonly found in depictions of Hell. According to Riess, then, Bartolomeo’s Purgatory is not characterised by divine transformation like Dante’s Purgatorio, but by infernal torment, as was often the case in scholastic treatises and medieval visionary literature. As opposed to Dante’s heavenly realm where the process of willingly undergoing purgation allows the souls to reach Paradise, Riess argues that Bartolomeo’s focus upon Limbo emphasizes that it was Christ entering Hell that ultimately led to salvation, and it was this act that serves to justify the souls’ exit from Purgatory: ‘The actions of Bartolomeo’s Christ in limbo become a validation and precedent for the freeing of souls from purgatory’.159 Whilst John Freccero demonstrates that similarly for Dante pilgrim in
157 Riess, p. 48. 158 Riess, p. 49. This paragraph is informed by Riess, pp. 48-49. 159 Riess, p. 48.
163 the Commedia, ‘the descent into Hell […] is the first step on the journey to the truth’, the souls placed in Purgatorio have not experienced the torments of Hell.160 Indeed, Dante makes it very clear in his poem that for those who are dead, with the exception of Trajan, there is no passage between Hell and the other two realms of the afterlife. By contrast, the location of Limbo in relation to Purgatory in this fresco blurs the lines between Hell and Purgatory as, for Bartolomeo, Christ’s descent into Hell is fundamental in enabling an exit from Purgatory. This close connection between Hell and Purgatory is further emphasized by the lack of movement between Purgatory and Paradise. Despite the depiction of souls seemingly moving towards Paradise with the help of angels in the upper left section of the wall, the dominant location of Limbo and the presence of Christ within it in the upper right section of this fresco implies that no movement towards God is possible without Christ’s visit to Hell.161 Indeed, Limbo only represents movement towards Paradise at the precise moment of the Harrowing of Hell; after that it remains empty and serves no further purpose. The continual possibility for movement between Purgatory and Paradise that is found in Dante’s Commedia is therefore replaced in this fresco by the representation of a singular point in time when Christ allowed souls to access Paradise. Thus, whilst the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio is potentially evident in this fresco, given that some aspects of a more heavenly Purgatory are visible and the realm is also geographically independent, Bartolomeo’s spiritual understanding of Purgatory appears to be vastly different from that of Dante. Indeed, the position of Limbo in relation to Purgatory, as well as the infernal landscape of the realm and the lack of clear movement of the souls towards Paradise, all suggest that here Purgatory does not have a unique function as a realm in itself. Instead, Bartolomeo’s Purgatory must rely upon another more established tradition, the Harrowing of Hell, to justify its existence. Consequently, unlike Dante’s heavenly, ordered realm of transition, the ultimate purpose of Bartolomeo’s more infernal representation of Purgatory remains unclear, thereby demonstrating a continued instability and inconsistency in the representation of the realm even in the mid-fifteenth century.
Conclusion
160 John Freccero, ‘Dante’s Prologue Scene’, Dante Studies, 118 (2000), 189-216 (p. 192). 161 Riess, p. 45.
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The images that have been analysed in this chapter therefore highlight the diversity of representations of Purgatory in fresco painting during the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries. Given the absence of established doctrine surrounding Purgatory and the consequent lack of a traditional corpus of purgatorial imagery for artists to draw upon, it is perhaps not surprising that these frescoes do not demonstrate a definitive iconography for the realm. While the dominant presence of fire is clear, and its differentiation from infernal punishment is hinted at by the prayerful gestures of the souls in the flames, many purgatorial punishments are the same as those often portrayed in depictions of Hell. This similarity could suggest that, when depicting Purgatory, artists made use of the more established imagery of Hell. Indeed, while the use of either demonic or angelic agents in these representations of Purgatory demonstrates that there was some confusion at this time surrounding the exact nature of the punishment undertaken in Purgatory, it could also suggest that artists were relying upon existing models. Moreover, although in many of the frescoes in this chapter there are suggestions of an attempt to portray a geographically independent realm for Purgatory, the landscape often remains ambiguous and the perimeters of the realm are not easily defined. However, certain representations of Purgatory examined above also include a depiction of Paradise, with clear exits and entrances between the realms. This helps to underline the movement of the souls towards a divine destination in these images, linking Purgatory to Paradise both physically and spiritually; an idea that was not always apparent in medieval visionary texts, although it was central to Dante’s conception of Purgatory. Where Paradise itself is not pictured, the inclusion of saints and the Virgin Mary, as well as the allegorical figure of Hope, all suggest that Dante’s conception of a more heavenly Purgatory is beginning to be seen in fresco painting, if only indirectly. Rather than including Purgatory for its own sake, however, it is the presence of Saint Patrick, Saint Michael, the Madonna or Christ, either at the Last Judgement or the Harrowing of Hell, that provides the pretext for including the realm in these frescoes. Purgatory therefore occupies a lesser role in these images than in Dante’s Purgatorio, where it is afforded equal space to Heaven and Hell. The artists’ depiction of the realm must consequently be viewed in the context of the numerous influences from commissioners, viewers and existing literary and visual models. While any engagement with Purgatorio that we have observed in these frescoes has been ‘implicit’, it is also ‘layered’, as Dantean elements are reassembled alongside other influential models. Even the direct portrayals of Dante’s Purgatorio that we have seen in manuscript miniatures
165 and frescoes offer distinct representations of this realm, as opposed to simple imitation, and this suggests that even when the act of intertextuality is ‘explicit’, artistic engagement with Dante’s realm is still ‘layered’ rather than ‘neutral’.162 This implies that Dante’s conception of Purgatory did not come to dominate the portrayal of this realm in fresco during this period.
162 See Lyne, pp. 40-42; and The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9, p. 11.
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Chapter Three: Visual Depictions of Purgatory in Altarpieces from the Italian peninsula
An altarpiece is defined as an ‘image-bearing structure set on the rear part of the altar, abutting the back of the altarblock, or set behind the altar in such a way as to be visually joined with the altar when viewed from a distance’.1 Altarpieces would therefore have occupied a dominant position in many churches during the medieval and early modern periods as they were often used to decorate both the High altar and the side altars, thereby representing a focal point for the congregation.2 Consequently, altarpieces performed a similar function to frescoes in providing a vivid, visual format to instruct the clergy and the laity, although the purpose of the altarpiece was usually more specific, as it would have been designed to celebrate the cult of the particular saint or mystery associated with the altar.3 Jill Burke explains that altarpieces were often seen to offer ‘a more focused frame for the devout onlooker’s gaze on the religious image’ than wall frescoes, which were sometimes considered too distracting given the considerable size of the paintings and the fact they were always on view.4 In her study of an apse mosaic, however, Dale Kinney demonstrates that there can be problems with visibility when an artwork, such as a mosaic or fresco, is fixed in one place on the wall.5 It is therefore important to take into account the size and position of the altarpiece within the church as this would have determined its visibility and the extent of its influence upon a viewer. I am going to examine four altarpieces that could be seen to represent Purgatory in slightly different ways, or at least to hint at the potential presence and function of this realm. As was seen in my analysis of frescoes, there are very few fourteenth- to sixteenth- century altarpieces that represent Purgatory explicitly in the Italian peninsula. The examples I have found are all Tuscan, perhaps suggesting that the particularly large production of Dante’s Commedia in Florence may have inspired depictions of the realm
1 The Grove Encyclopedia of Medieval Art and Architecture, ed. by Colum P. Hourihane, 6 vols (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), I, 44. 2 The Grove Encyclopedia, I, 44-45. 3 See Burke, p. 150; Louise Marshall, ‘Reading the Body of a Plague Saint: Narrative Altarpieces and Devotional Images of St Sebastian in Renaissance Art’, in Reading Texts and Images: Essays on Medieval and Renaissance Art and Patronage in honour of Margaret M. Manion, ed. by Bernard Muir (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2002), pp. 237-72 (p. 241); and The Grove Encyclopedia, I, 44. 4 Burke, p. 127. 5 Dale Kinney, ‘The Apse Mosaic of Santa Maria in Trastevere’, in Reading Medieval Images: The Art Historian and The Object, ed. by Elizabeth Sears and Thelma K. Thomas (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 2002), pp. 19-26 (pp. 19-22).
167 in Tuscan churches in particular.6 These include a predella panel from the Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints (c. 1390s) by Cenni di Francesco, originally located in the Gianfigliazzi chapel of Santa Trinita in Florence; a predella panel of Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory (c. 1412) by Lorenzo di Niccolò, whose original location remains unknown; the Cristo paziente e Cristo tronfante (c. 1420s- 1430s) by Giovanni di Paolo, originally housed in the church of San Nicolò al Carmine in Siena; and The Assumption of the Virgin (1475-76) by Francesco Botticini, originally housed in the church of San Pier Maggiore in Florence. I have chosen to study these representations because, like the frescoes examined in the previous chapter, these altarpieces have not been subject to extensive critical analysis and they have scarcely been analysed in the context of Dante’s Purgatorio and the developing representation of Purgatory. I will analyse these images in chronological order to assess whether there is any development in the perception of Purgatory over time, particularly when considering the relationship between Purgatory and Paradise, and the role of the saints in facilitating onward movement between these realms. The first two altarpieces that I will be examining, by Cenni di Francesco and Lorenzo di Niccolò, are very close in date and represent two of the very few instances in which Purgatory is depicted in an altarpiece from the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries. They are both polyptychs, which, as Jacob Burckhardt explains, ‘tended to consist of three to five panels arranged horizontally in a single register, with the central panel larger than the others’.7 In the fourteenth century, these ‘multi-panelled’ polyptychs began to replace the single altar panel, and they were usually positioned on a freestanding altar or against a wall.8 According to Burckhardt, the fourteenth century also saw the introduction of the predella as part of the altarpiece. As opposed to the main panel, the predella panel was located at the bottom of the altarpiece and usually included ‘a row of small-scale narrative scenes comparable to those previously placed in a border around the central image’.9 These scenes also followed a horizontal trajectory and usually portrayed the Life of Christ, the Virgin or a saint.10 In the examples we are looking at, Lorenzo di Niccolò depicts various moments from the Life of Saint Lawrence, whilst
6 On the production of the Commedia in Florence, see Barański, ‘Textual Transmission’, p. 509. 7 Jacob Burckhardt, The Altarpiece in Renaissance Italy, ed. and trans. by Peter Humfrey (Oxford: Phaidon, 1988), p. 48. 8 Burckhardt, p. 48. 9 Burckhardt, p. 48. 10 Burckhardt, p. 48.
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Cenni di Francesco includes several saints in his predella, with only one of the panels depicting Saint Lawrence. Nevertheless, in each case one predella panel shows Saint Lawrence delivering souls from Purgatory. Depictions in the predella were, necessarily, much smaller than the main panel and so would only have been clearly visible when viewed in close proximity. It is thus unlikely that these two predella scenes of Saint Lawrence liberating souls from Purgatory would have played a particularly dominant role in their respective churches, although they may have been influential for private worship. Indeed, as smaller images required much closer examination, it was thought that the viewer was less likely to forget their beauty and devout nature by becoming overly familiar with them.11 Moreover, as Burke explains, ‘The experience of looking is intensified by restricting access and becomes an active choice in which the viewer participates’.12 A smaller image in a church could therefore acquire more personal meaning for a viewer than a larger, well known image. Burke goes on to argue that:
We should perhaps see this placing of “private” devotional pieces within a “public” space in itself as an avowal of the superiority of individual prayer and internal contemplation over verbal declarations and external ceremony.13
It will therefore be interesting to compare the relative side-lining of Purgatory in these early altarpieces by Cenni di Francesco and Lorenzo di Niccolò, with the later single- panel altarpieces by Giovanni di Paolo and Francesco Botticini, which potentially attribute a greater role to Purgatory, as they possibly include the realm in their respective depictions of Christ Triumphant at the Last Judgement and the Assumption of the Virgin. As we shall see, in the fifteenth century the unified altarpiece, consisting of a single painted panel, began to replace the polyptych, which only lasted until the sixteenth century, as the most common method for decorating an altar.14 The developing form of the altarpiece itself may therefore have had important consequences for the depiction of Purgatory.
Critical Context There is little recent scholarship that focuses upon the broader question, addressed in this
11 Burke, pp. 175-76. 12 Burke, p. 176. 13 Burke, p. 176. 14 See Burckhardt, p. 48 and p. 64; and The Grove Encyclopedia, I, 47.
169 chapter, of Purgatory’s portrayal in the context of the altarpiece and in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio. Indeed, scholars studying these altarpieces have focused mainly upon questions of artistic influence and technique. This means that literary influence, such as that of Dante’s Purgatorio, is not often considered in any detail, and especially not in relation to the wider visual representation of Purgatory. Art historians Bruce Cole, David Wilkins and Carl Strehlke have all previously studied aspects of Cenni di Francesco’s work. Whilst Cole focuses on different stylistic elements of Cenni’s artwork, considering which paintings may be attributed to him, Wilkins briefly considers how Cenni often used the work of Maso di Banco as a model in his paintings.15 Strehlke, on the other hand, offers important contextual information concerning the altarpiece we are examining, Cenni’s Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, and the history of its relationship to the frescoes in the Gianfigliazzi chapel.16 However, Strehlke only gives a very brief analysis of the predella panel scene depicting Lawrence liberating souls from Purgatory.17 Likewise, Lorenzo di Niccolò’s predella panels, which also depict scenes from the life of Saint Lawrence, are only mentioned in passing by Strehlke.18 Adelheid Gealt focuses on the life and works of Lorenzo di Niccolò in an attempt to establish a chronology of his works, and Osvald Siren also offers a brief history of Lorenzo’s works, considering the influence of contemporary artists such as Spinello Aretino upon his style, but he does not mention the predella panels of Saint Lawrence, which may not have been attributed to Lorenzo at this stage.19 Each of these studies emphasizes that relatively little is known about Lorenzo di Niccolò and when the predella panels depicting the life of Saint Lawrence are mentioned they are not analysed in any detail. Lorenzo di Niccolò’s panel scenes are now housed in the Brooklyn Museum, whose website seems to offer a potential reason for their absence in current scholarship as it appears that the predella
15 Bruce Cole, ‘Three New Works by Cenni di Francesco’, The Burlington Magazine, 111 (1969), 81-83,
170 panels were separated from the main altarpiece and cut into pieces. This makes them hard to analyse as their original location, and their position within the altarpiece itself, is unknown.20 There is also limited contextual information available concerning the altarpiece of Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (Christ Suffering and Triumphant) by the Sienese artist Giovanni di Paolo (1403-82). John Pope-Hennessy underlines the ‘intensity’ and ‘high individual imaginative quality’ of Giovanni’s work, which is particularly evident in his illuminations of Dante’s Paradiso for King Alfonso I of Naples.21 Whilst this demonstrates that Giovanni was familiar with at least a part of Dante’s Commedia, the illuminations (c. 1445) were completed after the altarpiece (c. 1420s-1430s). Thus, although Giovanni clearly engaged with Dante’s text later in his career, it is unclear whether he would have been familiar with Dante’s Purgatorio when he painted this altarpiece. Although much has been written on the life and works of Giovanni di Paolo by scholars such as Pope-Hennessy, there is little detailed critical analysis of Giovanni’s Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante altarpiece.22 Cesare Brandi, however, does hint at the stylistic innovation of this particular altarpiece, but he focuses upon the representation of Christ, rather than the surrounding landscape, which includes Purgatory.23 Henk van Os, Louise Marshall and Carolyn C. Wilson have each analysed certain altarpieces by Giovanni di Paolo in greater depth. While van Os focuses on the dating of panels showing the life of St. Catherine of Siena and the reconstruction of the original altarpiece, Marshall offers a re-examination of Giovanni’s altarpiece of St Nicholas of Tolentino Saving a Plague-Stricken City, claiming it shows a plague miracle not a resurrection.24 Wilson, meanwhile, offers a detailed consideration of the context, subject matter and physical condition of the Houston panels by Giovanni, taking into account the
20 See
171 iconography of saints when questioning the original location of these images.25 Giovanni’s altarpiece of Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante, however, has not yet been subject to a similarly in-depth study. By contrast, there have been numerous scholarly studies of The Assumption of the Virgin (1475-76) by Francesco Botticini (1446-1498), which have often focused upon the broader context of the painting, its attribution to Botticini and its commission by the Florentine humanist, Matteo Palmieri (1406-1475).26 Scholars have also focused upon whether this painting can be seen to represent aspects of Palmieri’s controversial poem, the Città di vita (c. 1466), which followed the unorthodox teachings of Origen by arguing for the angelic origin of the soul. The possible inclusion of this heretical content in the painting, as well as the survival of many of its contextual sources, could perhaps help to explain the amount of critical interest there has been for this altarpiece in comparison to the other examples we are looking at. Catherine King has, however, challenged the perception of the altarpiece as heretical by analysing the inclusion of Niccolosa Serragli, Palmieri’s wife, and her association with the Benedictine nuns in this altarpiece.27 King underlines the importance of Niccolosa’s role, not only in influencing the background landscape to include her own dowry farms, but also in potentially overseeing and contributing to the commission of the altarpiece. When considering the commission and artistic merits of the work, Rolf Bagemihl, on the other hand, suggests that the influence of Palmieri’s unorthodoxy in the Città di vita is made evident in this image by the inclusion of halos and stars on the breast of every saint and angel depicted, hinting at the angelic origins of souls.28 Botticini’s altarpiece has also been the subject of a much more recent critical analysis by art historian Jennifer Sliwka, who provides an in-depth discussion of the altarpiece.29 Sliwka focuses on the context of the work and its patron,
25 Carolyn C. Wilson, ‘Structure and Iconography in Giovanni di Paolo’s Altarpieces: The Case of the Houston Panels’, Arte cristiana, 84 (1996), 420-34. 26 On the context of the painting see Martin Davies, The Earlier Italian Schools (National Gallery Catalogues) (London: The National Gallery, 1961); Giotto to Dürer: Early Renaissance Painting in the National Gallery, ed. by Jill Dunkerton and others (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991); Paula Nuttall, ‘The Patrons of Chapels at the Badia of Fiesole’, Studi di storia dell’arte, 3 (1992), 97-112; Rubin, pp. 201-31; and Lisa Venturini, Francesco Botticini: artisti toscani dal Trecento al Settecento (Florence: Edifir, 1994). 27 See Catherine King, ‘The Dowry Farms of Niccolosa Serragli and the Altarpiece of the Assumption in the National Gallery London (1126) Ascribed to Francesco Botticini’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 50 (1987), 275-78,
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Palmieri, as well as discussing the spiritual significance of this altarpiece in the context of Florentine society and in relation to Palmieri’s Città di vita. These critics, however, do not often consider the place of Purgatory in Botticini’s image or the relation of this altarpiece to other medieval and early modern depictions of Purgatory from the Italian peninsula. Moreover, most of these studies are conducted from an art-historical perspective and, consequently, the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio does not form a main strand of analysis. In the following section there is thus space for a more comparative approach to these artworks, in light of broader artistic, literary and theological concepts of Purgatory.
Altarpieces Cenni di Francesco, Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles In the following predella images by both Cenni di Francesco and Lorenzo di Niccolò, the representation of Purgatory is found within the context of the portrayal of the life of a saint, a tradition that was usually restricted to the predella panel. This may therefore explain why the doctrine of Purgatory, which was subject to much theological debate and rarely depicted in artwork, was able to be included in these altarpieces, as the artists presented the life of Saint Lawrence, rather than Purgatory itself, as their main focus. This could also demonstrate, however, that iconographical traditions associated with hagiography remained more influential for altarpiece depictions than Dante’s vision of the afterlife. Cenni di Francesco’s Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints (Figure 51) dates from c. 1390s and, whilst it is now held in the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, Strehlke argues that it would have originally adorned the Saint Benedict chapel, which belonged to the Gianfigliazzi family, in the Santa Trinita, Florence.
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Figure 51. Cenni di Francesco, Polyptych Figure 52. Detail of predella panel, with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, Purgatory. 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. The main panels of the altarpiece contain twenty-four saints, including Saint Zenobius, the patron of Florence, and Saint John Gualbert, who was the founder of the Vallombrosan order that commissioned Santa Trinita.30 The central panel shows the Virgin with her head bowed as she is crowned by Christ.31 The predella panels at the bottom include four saints, with Benedict and John the Baptist represented in the scenes on the left, and Anthony Abbot and Lawrence on the right, whilst the Dormition of the Virgin is depicted in the central predella panel.32 In the scene portraying Saint Lawrence in Figure 52 there appears to be a rocky mountain on the right, which houses several dark and enclosed caverns similar to those in the Todi fresco, where naked souls are punished in flames or by devils, whilst on the left saved souls clothed in white are seen entering the city of Heaven.33 Meanwhile, Saint Lawrence is depicted in the centre of the image, grasping the hand of a soul in order to bring him out of the dark cavern and towards the celestial city.
30 Strehlke, p. 23. 31 Strehlke, pp. 30-31. 32 On the significance of Cenni’s choice to depict these particular saints in this predella panel, see Strehlke, p. 25. 33 Strehlke argues that the soul clothed in white seen praying at the feet of Lawrence may be a donor portrait (p. 25).
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Given the infernal nature of the punishments on the right, it could therefore be possible that St. Lawrence is situated between the realms of Hell and Paradise here, thereby representing the liminal space of Purgatory. I would suggest, however, that it is actually the mountain on the right that represents Purgatory in this instance. Purgatory had not been explicitly associated with Paradise until Dante’s Purgatorio, and, consequently, as we have seen, infernal and purgatorial imagery were often interchangeable in visual and literary conceptions of the realm. Moreover, it would be unlikely for a saint, such as St. Lawrence, to be placed in Purgatory itself, which was still a realm for sinners. The most compelling argument for locating Purgatory in the mountainous caverns on the right, however, is that the soul aided by St. Lawrence is shown to be leaving the realm. In chapters 11, 23 and 24 of Book 21 of his City of God, Augustine challenged those, such as the theologian Origen, who believed that the punishment of Hell was not eternal: ‘For as the laws of this present city do not provide for the executed criminal’s return to it, so neither is he who is condemned to the second death recalled again to life everlasting’.34 The impossibility of salvation for those in Hell is further underlined by medieval visionary literature such as the Vision of Drythelm, where Drythelm is told: ‘that fiery and stinking pit you saw is the mouth of hell, and whoever falls into it shall never be delivered for all eternity’, and the Vision of Tundale, where the angel describes Hell as ‘punishment from which no one who enters it once is able to exit again’.35 Therefore, medieval visionary literature and theological treatises that followed Augustinian thought usually made it explicitly clear that souls in Hell are never ultimately destined for salvation. It would thus be impossible for them to progress towards Heaven, as the soul in Cenni’s image is shown to be doing. Like the role of the Virgin Mary in the frescoes at Todi and Paganico, I therefore argue that Saint Lawrence acts as the facilitator of the souls’ transition between the realms of Purgatory and Paradise, not only in this predella panel by Cenni di Francesco but also in that of Lorenzo di Niccolò, as we shall see later. The legend of Saint Lawrence is most famously recounted by Jacobus de Voragine in the Legenda aurea (c. 1260). Jacobus states that when the Emperor Decius, who carried out widespread persecution of Christians during his reign, asked the archdeacon Lawrence to give him the Church treasure, which had been entrusted to him by Pope
34 Saint Augustine, City of God, trans. by Marcus Dods, ed. by Kevin Knight,
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Sixtus II, Lawrence decided to give it all away to the poor.36 He was handed over to the prefect Valerian who allowed him three days to produce the Church’s treasure. Lawrence instead presented Valerian with a large group of the poor and needy, who he claimed were the true treasure of the Church. As a consequence, Lawrence was tortured and eventually laid on a grill where he was slowly burnt to death. The legend states that, following his death, Lawrence performed many miracles, including saving the soul of Stephen from damnation by allowing him to return to Earth to complete the appropriate penance before death, and Lawrence was even said to have saved the soul of Emperor Henry II during the weighing of the souls by Saint Michael.37 Despite highlighting the role of Saint Lawrence in saving the souls of the dead, Jacobus de Voragine does not mention Purgatory in his account. Indeed, explicit references linking Saint Lawrence with Purgatory seem to be rare, and even in the most recent Oxford Dictionary of Saints, for example, David Farmer does not mention Purgatory in relation to Saint Lawrence at all.38 Clemens Jöckle claims, however, that there existed a belief that every Friday Saint Lawrence would free a soul from Purgatory, and he thus became the patron saint of the poor souls in Purgatory, as well as of all those in professions involving fire.39 According to Lawrence’s eighteenth-century hagiographer, J. Pinio, the only appearance of this legend, where Saint Lawrence frees a soul from Purgatory every Friday, is in an undated manuscript, the Passio S. Laurentii martyris & aliorum sanctorum, from the monastery of Saint Maximus in Trier.40 In this one instance, then, Lawrence is described as a saviour for those in Purgatory and is thus explicitly associated with the realm. It is possible that this link between the saint and Purgatory arose because of Lawrence’s fiery death, given that purgatorial punishment often involved fire, and also because, as we have seen, he was already known for his intercessions on behalf of the dead.41 The legend recounted in this single manuscript may
36 This paragraph is informed by Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. by William Granger Ryan, 2 vols (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), II, 65-69. 37 See also Clemens Jöckle, Encyclopedia of Saints, trans. by the German Translation Center (London: Alpine Fine Arts Collection, 1995), p. 274; and Strehlke pp. 26-27. 38 David Farmer, The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, 4th edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), pp. 295-96. 39 Jöckle, p. 275. 40 See Strehlke, p. 25 and footnote 94 on p. 39. See also J. E. Cross, ‘The Passio S. Laurentii et aliorum: Latin Manuscripts and the Old English Martyrology’, Medieval Studies, 45 (1983), 200-13; and Clare Pilsworth, ‘Dating the Gesta martyrum: A Manuscript-Based Approach’, Early Medieval Europe, 9 (2000), 309-24. 41 In an approach which could also be applied to St. Lawrence’s association with Purgatory, Marshall demonstrates how St. Sebastian became associated with the plague and the ways in which his punishment
176 therefore have influenced the very few visual representations that exist of Saint Lawrence liberating souls from Purgatory.42 Given the limited number of sources that mention St. Lawrence and Purgatory, it is perhaps surprising that he is associated with the realm in Cenni’s altarpiece. Strehlke has suggested that in this particular case Lawrence may have been chosen because of his charity, as seen in the legend where he gives all the treasure to the poor.43 Indeed, this altarpiece was commissioned by the Gianfigliazzi, a powerful Florentine family with a reputation for usury. Strehlke argues that the soul punished in the upper right of the image holds a moneybag, representing avarice and usury, and that there are three other moneybags depicted in the centre between the devils, although it is more likely that the three in the centre are actually part of a scourge, a whip with several thongs, held by the black devil. According to Strehlke, the moneybag recalls the description of the usurers in
Inferno XVII, where Dante is able to recognise the sinners from their family coat of arms, which are displayed on the purses around their necks: ‘non ne conobbi alcun; ma io m’accorsi | che dal collo a ciascun pendea una tasca | ch’avea certo colore e certo segno’
(Inf., XVII. 54-56). One of these purses is decorated with the image of a lion, which was the Gianfigliazzi coat of arms: ‘in una borsa gialla vidi azzurro | che d’un leone avea
faccia e contegno’ (Inf., XVII. 59-60). It is likely, therefore, that the Gianfigliazzi would have been worried about their renown for this particular sin, and so, as Strehlke argues, the family may have sought to improve their tarnished reputation with this altarpiece. Representing a realm of Purgatory that contained usurers implied that, despite their notoriety for usury, the family still had hope for redemption. This need to redeem the family reputation may similarly have influenced the Bardi, also wealthy bankers, to commission Maso di Banco’s tomb fresco. This could suggest that banking families may have been particularly concerned to depict Purgatory, or at least some form of penitence, in their funerary chapels as a means of assuring salvation and restoring their reputations. The choice to depict Saint Lawrence liberating souls from Purgatory in this altarpiece could also relate to the focus upon penitence and penance that seems to permeate the
and martyrdom may have influenced his later cult, see Marshall, ‘Reading the Body of a Plague Saint’, pp. 238-42. 42 These include Lorenzo Di Niccolò’s predella panel, now in the Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York, analysed in this chapter; as well as a fragmentary fresco by Cenni di Francesco in the church of San Lorenzo, Vicchio di Rimaggio, a predella for the bakers’ guild, whose patron saint was Lawrence, by Bicci di Lorenzo, and another fragmentary fresco by the Master of Barberino in San Lorenzo in Signa, which I do not have space to analyse here, see Strehlke, p. 25. 43 This paragraph is informed by Strehlke, p. 11, pp. 26-27.
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Saint Benedict chapel and the church of Santa Trinita as a whole. Although the chapel was dedicated to Saint Benedict, the Gianfigliazzi family celebrated the feast of Saint Lawrence, and ‘devotion to the saint is explained by the chapel’s function as a place of masses of suffrage for the souls of Gianfigliazzi dead’.44 This focus upon penitence is also seen in the frescoes that decorate the Saint Benedict chapel, which, according to Strehlke, were also painted by Cenni di Francesco, suggesting that he may have included the same themes in his altarpiece.45 As is seen in many frescoes in Santa Trinita, Cenni depicts scenes from the lives of Mary Magdalene and also Saint Benedict in his fresco cycle, both of whom ‘symbolize victory over sin through penitence and castigation’, which are key elements of purgation.46 Moreover, as Mary Magdalene is portrayed in both the Strozzi and Gianfigliazzi chapels, which are at the entrance to Santa Trinita, Strehlke infers that her ‘act of penitence was one that all who entered the church were encouraged to emulate’.47 The purgatorial themes of repentance, followed by the undertaking of penance for sins, therefore formed an important narrative throughout the entire church, one which may well have influenced the choice of the predella scene showing Saint Lawrence liberating souls from Purgatory. In Cenni’s predella panel, however, the progress of the souls’ penitential journey through Purgatory is not especially obvious. This is largely due to the unclear geography of the realm in this image, as there is little sense of progression between the enclosed caverns within the mountain. Indeed, even though one soul is shown leaving the realm, as he is freed by Saint Lawrence, a devil is still trying to hold on to him, which contrasts greatly with the presence of angels in Dante’s Purgatory. The actions of the devil give the impression that the souls’ purgation is not yet complete or that this is not the right trajectory for him to take, thereby casting doubt on his salvation. As in the Todi fresco, the predominant movement of the souls, once saved, is from right to left, as opposed to the ascent towards the heavens we find in Dante’s Purgatorio. However, unlike the Todi fresco, Cenni does not depict a clear exit from Purgatory, as the arms of Saint Lawrence and the soul meet over the rocky boundary of the realm, emphasizing that Purgatory is sealed off from Heaven and can only be bridged by divine intervention; in this case, that of Lawrence. By contrast, the entrance to the heavenly city is extremely clear, dominating
44 Strehlke, p. 25. 45 Strehlke, p. 31. 46 Strehlke, p. 28. 47 Strehlke, p. 29.
178 the left side of the image and decorated in white and gold, colours representing the purity and divinity of Heaven. Whilst we have a similar contrast between the dark, rocky landscape of Purgatory and the bright architecture of the celestial city as seen in the Todi fresco, Christ is not depicted in glory here. Indeed, the exclusion of Christ and the angels, who are found in the Todi representation of the celestial city, means that, as opposed to highlighting the divine nature of the soul’s destination after purgation, the main focus of the image remains upon Lawrence, who is the only figure who does not undergo or complete purgation in this image. Cenni therefore appears to focus on the role of Lawrence in his predella scene rather than the journey undertaken by the souls through the afterlife, as is the case in the Commedia. The lack of emphasis placed upon the souls’ progression in this predella scene is reinforced by the depiction of purgatorial punishment, which is extremely infernal. Devils of different colours are pictured wielding instruments of torture, such as pitchforks, to stab the naked souls, whose bodies are contorted or visibly in pain. For the most part these souls face away from the viewer and their bodies are at a horizontal angle within the cavern. As well as these souls, there are also two groups of souls visible who are not directly tortured by the devils and are thus pictured standing upright. The first group is located in the cavern above the soul who is being freed by Saint Lawrence. Here the souls appear to be wearing an assortment of clerical hats, perhaps suggesting that even members of the clergy can be subject to purgation. Although these souls are covered in flames they do not appear to be in pain as they stand calmly side by side, thereby underlining the fixed nature of their purgation, which seems to have no clear onward trajectory. This is particularly emphasized by the gaze of the souls, as although a few souls look towards St Lawrence, hinting at the course their future journey will take, many appear to be looking in entirely different directions. Consequently, there is no sense of unified purpose and onward movement for these souls like that found in Dante’s Purgatorio. The other group of souls are crammed into a dark cavern towards the bottom of the image. There are not as many flames present here, perhaps hinting that different sins may be punished in different ways in each cavern, although if this is the case the sins are not easily identifiable. Indeed, unlike the frescoes in Todi and Terni that depict the seven deadly sins, here there are no labels naming the sins that are purged, meaning that the punishment lacks order and thus appears more generic. Moreover, like the previous group of souls, there is again no sense of the ultimate goal of Purgatory as, rather than gazing up
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towards Heaven, or even towards Saint Lawrence and the possible exit from Purgatory, the souls all gaze downward. This lack of clear direction, inherent in the confused geography of this realm, is thus further emphasized by the depiction of the souls themselves, by the angle of their bodies and the direction of their gaze. Whilst the depiction of Purgatory may not suggest a clear path of redemption for the souls to follow, as in Dante, there may still be a sense of progression taking place in the portrayal of the souls’ bodies, as we also saw in the Paganico fresco. In the infernalised realm of Purgatory that Cenni paints, we only see parts of the souls’ bodies, mainly their heads and upper torso. This has a de-humanising effect, as they are not represented as an entire being. The soul who is saved by Saint Lawrence, however, almost reveals his entire body except for his lower legs and feet. This is then contrasted with the saved souls entering Heaven’s gate, as well as Saint Lawrence, who are seen in their entirety. These three different stages in the revelation of the body help to create a sense of progression, perhaps hinting at the purification of the body that occurs during purgation, which will ultimately facilitate the unification of body and soul at the Final Judgement. This could therefore represent an implicit ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio.48 Despite this potential sign of progression through Purgatory, however, these differences could also imply a lack of agency on the part of the purging souls. In Purgatorio the souls undergo purgation willingly as they understand the higher purpose of their suffering, which then allows them to move on towards Christ. Here, however, the absence of a visibly complete body hints at a more static purgation, as the souls may be physically unable to move towards Paradise. Thus, whilst the changing physical portrayal of the souls could represent the progressive stages in their purgation, it could also emphasize their relative passivity in relation to the punishment and their consequent reliance upon Saint Lawrence to save them. Just like the frescoes we have examined in Todi and Terni, the representation of Purgatory in this predella scene is hard to distinguish from that of Hell. Although Purgatory is presented as a geographically independent realm, as in Purgatorio, the punishments are violently administered by demons in a dark and enclosed space, with no clear path of transition towards Paradise. This lack of movement is reinforced by the rocky terrain of Purgatory, with no defined exit, and the walls of the celestial city, which both act as barriers that effectively separate the two realms from each other. The presence
48 Lyne, pp. 40-42; The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9.
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of Saint Lawrence does, however, facilitate a transition, enabling souls to move from purgation towards salvation, which would not have been theologically possible had they been depicted in Hell. This sense of progression towards Paradise may also be reflected in the changing bodily representation of the souls, which differs depending on whether they are being punished, released from Purgatory, or entering the celestial city. The role of Saint Lawrence, the portrayal of the souls and the inclusion of the celestial city alongside Purgatory in this scene therefore suggest that, despite the infernal depiction of Purgatory in this predella panel, which seems to have more in common with Dante’s Inferno than Purgatorio, the souls in this realm do ultimately proceed to Paradise. However, instead of underlining the role of Purgatory in allowing this transition to take place, as Dante does in Purgatorio, the main focus of this image appears to be upon Saint Lawrence, who is pictured saving a soul from a terrifying purgation. It seems, therefore, that in this predella scene it is not the realm of Purgatory itself that positively transforms the souls and enables them to reach Paradise, but rather it is the divine intervention of Saint Lawrence that ultimately saves them.
Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1412, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York Although we cannot comment on Lorenzo di Niccolò’s altarpiece as a whole, as the predella panels were separated from the main panels for reasons unknown, and we do not know where it was located originally, Lorenzo’s predella scene of Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory (c. 1412) displays many similarities to Cenni di Francesco’s depiction of the same scene, examined above. While Lorenzo may have taken inspiration from Cenni’s image, it is also possible that both artists were influenced by the same model, which they incorporated and then reformulated in their own work.49
49 On the tradition of imitation and elaboration in Sienese images, see Benjamin David, ‘Past and Present in Sienese Painting: 1350-1550’, RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, 40 (2001), 77-100,
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Figure 53. Lorenzo Di Niccolò, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1412, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York.
As in Cenni’s depiction, in Figure 53 the souls undergo purgation on the right-hand side of the image, whilst a soul clothed in white is portrayed entering the gate to the celestial city on the left. Saint Lawrence occupies a central position once more and acts as a link between these two realms of the afterlife, as he is again shown grasping the hand of a soul in Purgatory in order to lead them on towards Paradise. Like Cenni, Lorenzo also depicts numerous devils of different colours who torture the souls using implements such as a mallet or club, thereby demonstrating how both artists depict an extremely infernal realm of Purgatory. Whilst the focus upon violent purgatorial punishment, the structural layout of the image and the prominent role attributed to Saint Lawrence all resemble Cenni’s depiction of this scene, there are also some notable differences. In Lorenzo’s image, Purgatory is not located within a mountain, as the souls are instead consumed by flames, and so it is difficult to ascertain whether Purgatory is portrayed as a geographically separate realm here. It is possible that Purgatory only occupies the space in the centre of the image, encompassing St. Lawrence and the three figures in white, who are slightly separate from the souls undergoing punishment on the right. As in Cenni’s image, however, the fact that a devil is pictured grasping one of the souls implies that the soul has come from this realm. As we have seen, onward movement towards the divine was not possible from Hell and so this connection between the devil and the saved soul suggests that the tortures represented in the flames here are also part of Purgatory. While direct depictions of Dante’s purgatorial fire, such as that found in the Yates Thompson manuscript in chapter one, also focus on its punitive aspect, the Holkham manuscript does not portray fire at all, thereby minimising its association with
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Dante’s realm.50 Fire was more commonly identified with Purgatory in early theological treatises and medieval visionary literature.51 Thus, although Lorenzo’s Purgatory is clearly distinct from the surrounding landscape, the fact that it is simply presented as a fire, with no physical features such as an entrance or an exit, links it more closely to theological and visionary traditions than to Dante’s Purgatorio. Indeed, this lack of geographical specificity means that it is even harder than in Cenni’s image to determine any sense of the souls’ physical or spiritual progression: the transformative journey through Purgatory towards Paradise is therefore unclear. The architecture delineating the celestial city, on the other hand, creates a very clear entrance for the saved souls to pass through. While gateways were used to depict the entrance to Purgatory proper in the manuscript miniatures of Purgatorio, in these predella panels a gateway is used instead to portray the entrance to Paradise.52 Consequently, the boundaries of the purgatorial realm here are not as clearly defined. The soul entering through this heavenly gate directs his gaze upwards whilst holding his arms up, seemingly in the act of praising God, which highlights the holy nature of this realm for the viewer. There is also a tree, possibly representing the tree of life from the Earthly Paradise, which grants eternal life to those who eat from it.53 Whilst this could hint that the souls are entering the Earthly Paradise after having left Purgatory, as in Dante’s Commedia, the inclusion of the tree here is most likely symbolic of the eternal life with God that awaits the souls, especially as it is written in the Bible that the tree of life is also present in Paradise.54 The gold leaf seen through the gateway further emphasizes that the souls are going into a divine realm. Gold leaf is also used to decorate the background of the image, as well as the frame, and it thus surrounds the flames of Purgatory, which do not quite
50 London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol. 113v. 51 For example, in the third century AD, the theologians Clement of Alexandria and Origen both claimed that the soul was purged in a purifying fire after death, and later Augustine in Enchiridon 69 claimed that purgation took place in a purgatorial fire (in igne purgatorio) with no fixed locus. In many Otherworld journeys, such as the Vision of Fursa, there was confusion as to whether fire tests, punishes or purges the souls. On the relationship between fire and Purgatory see, amongst others, Le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory; Morgan, Dante and the Medieval Other World; Visions of Heaven and Hell before Dante, ed. by Eileen Gardiner; and Zaleski, Otherworld Journeys. 52 See London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 79r; Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48 (Genoese, third quarter of fourteenth century), p. 74; and London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Priamo della Quercia, c. 1442-1450), fol.84r. 53 On the trees in the Earthly Paradise, see Peter Armour, ‘The Earthly Paradise’, in The Dante Encyclopedia, ed. by Richard Lansing (New York: Garland, 2000), pp. 330-34. 54 See Revelation 22.2, ‘On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations’.
183 reach the edge of the image. The use of gold leaf surrounding the realm here could therefore suggest that, despite its infernal characteristics, Lorenzo’s Purgatory may still be connected to the divine. Whilst there are fewer souls visibly punished in Purgatory when compared to Cenni’s representation, possibly emphasizing the individual nature of the sin and the violence of the punishment to be endured, there are three souls, rather than one, who are shown being saved by Saint Lawrence. These three souls are not pictured actively leaving Purgatory, like the soul in Cenni’s image, as they are all kneeling, two with their hands in a prayerful gesture and one holding the hand of Saint Lawrence. This contrasts with the image of three figures in purgatorial flames from the Egerton manuscript, examined in chapter one, which depicts the souls in the act of crossing through the barrier of fire in order to reach the Earthly Paradise.55 Lorenzo does, however, make the salvation of these souls evident for the viewer through his use of colour. As opposed to the naked souls undergoing torture, here the souls stand out from the red background of the flames as they are slightly larger in size and clothed all in white; characteristics that demonstrate both their importance and purity. Their ultimate salvation is further confirmed by the fact that the soul pictured entering the gate of the celestial city is similarly dressed in white, thereby signifying that the souls in white garments are destined for Paradise. As we have seen from the analysis of the Todi fresco, Dante explicitly links the colour white with the theological virtue of faith in Purgatorio, and in the Book of Revelation 7.14 the colour white is identified with the final transformation of souls before they are united with God, an association that is also mirrored in the Commedia.56 It is likely, given these literary and biblical connotations, that the white clothing of these souls in Purgatory would therefore have been a sign for the viewer of the souls’ imminent salvation. Despite this certainty, there is still a devil holding on to one of the saved souls in an attempt to thwart his or her journey to Paradise. In this way, the artist presents Saint Lawrence as having to actively fight against evil in order to save the souls from this realm. This underlines the necessity of his role for the salvation of souls who seemingly would not be able to leave without his intervention. Unlike Dante’s Purgatorio, then, which underlines that each soul must reorient their own desire away from contingent things and towards God, this image does not appear to concentrate upon the agency of the
55 London, British Library, MS Egerton 943 (Emilian or Paduan, Master of the Antiphonar of Padua, second quarter of the fourteenth century), fol. 112r. 56 Tréinfhir, p. 155.
184 individual in his or her journey to Paradise. Instead, Lorenzo’s fiery Purgatory, like that of Cenni, appears to emphasize the vital role of Saint Lawrence, above that of the individual and the realm of Purgatory itself, in the souls’ journey to Paradise. It would seem, therefore, that this ambiguous visual representation of Purgatory reflects the inconclusive, and sometimes contradictory, ideas concerning the physical and spiritual nature of the realm that were to be found in theological and visionary writings at the time. The prominence of St. Lawrence also appears to reflect traditions linked to customary predella depictions, suggesting that Dante’s vision did not really percolate through to these images, which instead remain attached to iconographical traditions associated with hagiography. Unlike Dante’s Purgatorio, Lorenzo’s Purgatory is not a clearly defined physical realm, as it is instead dominated by the presence of fire. This loss of geographical specificity means that in this image Purgatory ultimately lacks the clear transformative purpose afforded to it by Dante. Instead, like Cenni di Francesco, Lorenzo depicts an extremely infernal conception of Purgatory that, given the context of the predella, focuses predominantly upon the salvific role of Saint Lawrence. Although neither the topography nor the spiritual purpose of Dante’s Purgatorio appear to be emulated in this image, there still may be ‘implicit’ engagement with Dante’s text, as there is a sense of hope and progression for the souls beyond Purgatory, evidenced by the depiction of the celestial city alongside the purgatorial flames.57 Whilst Dante’s Purgatorio is a hopeful realm that facilitates transformation, however, in Lorenzo’s predella scene it is ultimately Saint Lawrence who allows this transition towards Paradise to take place. Lorenzo, like Cenni, therefore portrays a fundamentally different conception of Purgatory to that described by Dante.
Giovanni di Paolo (c. 1403- c. 1482), Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena Giovanni di Paolo’s Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (c. 1420s-1430s) is a single panel altarpiece that was originally housed in the church of San Nicolò al Carmine in Siena, which was founded by the Carmelites.58 The name of the altarpiece refers to the artistic
57 Lyne, pp. 40-42. 58 See Fondazione Federico Zeri Università di Bolgona, Giovanni di Paolo, Cristus Patiens e Cristus Triumphans, Colomba dello Spirito Santo,
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tradition of portraying the death of Christ on the cross by emphasizing either His human or divine nature. Whilst Cristo paziente tends to refer to depictions that underline the suffering of Christ on the cross, focusing on His human death, Cristo trionfante instead focuses upon Christ’s triumph over death on the cross and the hope of resurrection.59 Sometimes, Christ’s victory over death was not depicted on the cross and, as is the case here, He is instead portrayed as victorious on the day of the Final Judgement. This explains the use of Cristo paziente e Cristo giudice as an alternative name for this altarpiece.
Figure 54. Giovanni di Paolo, Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. Photograph my own.
In Figure 54 Giovanni di Paolo depicts Cristo paziente on the left as a very pale, emaciated figure, bleeding from nail wounds on His hands and feet as He holds the cross. Christ appears weak as He is pictured lowering His head, in a pose that suggests He is
59 My account here is informed by Victor M. Schmidt, ‘Tavole dipinte: tipologie, destinazioni e funzioni (secoli XII-XIV)’, in L’arte medievale nel contesto: 300-1300. Funzioni, iconografia, tecniche, ed. by Paolo Piva (Milan: Jaca Book, 2006), pp. 205-44 (pp. 207-10).
186 almost resigning himself to the suffering. By contrast, on the right Christ is depicted as judge and seated in glory, dressed in a red robe. Although He is still bleeding from the wounds in His side and hands, Christ is not as pale here and He does not lower His head, instead looking straight ahead, implying victory over death and suffering. The head of a cherub is visible on either side of Christ as judge and they each blow a trumpet which reaches down to the realms of Purgatory on the left and Hell on the right in the green landscape below. The trumpets signify the end of time and so their presence would have signalled to the viewer that this is a scene of the Last Judgement. This would have been reinforced by the presence of St. Michael, who, as we have seen, was often pictured weighing souls on the Day of Judgement. In Giovanni di Paolo’s altarpiece, St. Michael the Archangel is pictured beneath Christ’s feet and between the realms of Purgatory and Hell. Despite the dominant portrayals of Christ, the smaller depictions of both Purgatory and Hell are clearly visible, especially as the image is otherwise quite sparse. Purgatory and Hell are both depicted as caverns in the ground, like St. Patrick’s Purgatory, and are located on the hillside opposite each other, thereby seemingly acting as mirrors of one another (Figure 55). Indeed, the similar underground location appears to link both realms to spiritual and physical darkness and descent. Giovanni di Paolo, like Cenni di Francesco and Lorenzo di Niccolò, thus depicts a very infernal Purgatory. They are, however, presented as two physically distinct realms, and consequently appear to serve different purposes. Indeed, unlike Cenni di Francesco’s predella panel and the Todi fresco, which represent numerous cavernous areas of torture, here there are only two caverns visible, which instead seem to represent an entrance and an exit.
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Figure 55. Giovanni di Paolo, Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante (c. 1420s- 1430s), tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. Detail: Purgatory on the left, St Michael the Archangel in the centre and Hell on the right. Photograph my own.
In the infernal cavern there is a definite sense of movement from left to right. The souls in Hell are naked and surrounded by flames and they are threatened by a devil outside the cavern who appears to force them to descend further into the depths of the hole. The first soul nearest the devil covers his or her face, whilst the second soul turns towards the devil with hands clasped in desperation and the third soul faces away as he or she moves further along the way into Hell, perhaps conveying a sense of shame. The cavern depicted here is very dark but there is light shining on the face of the third soul, suggesting that these souls are heading into more flames. While souls are also shown entering Hell in La commedia illumina Firenze (1465) by Domenico di Michelino, representations of this realm were usually more static, showing souls undergoing eternal, fixed punishment. The suggested movement of damned souls in Giovanni’s altarpiece, by contrast, seems to emphasise that the events depicted are taking place at the moment of the Last Judgement. The cavern on the left representing Purgatory is also quite dark but inside it is coloured red rather than black. This could suggest that it contains even more fiery punishment than Hell but, despite the red background, the flames are not as easily visible
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as those in Hell, suggesting the souls are leaving punishment behind here. Moreover, the green landscape of the hill surrounding Purgatory connotes hope and is a lighter colour than that surrounding the entrance to Hell, which appears more intimidating as it is not only darker and more jagged, but also guarded by a devil. There are four souls in the cavern of Purgatory, who, unlike the souls in Hell, do not contort their bodies to cover their faces or turn away in shame but instead stand upright, each with their hands in a position of prayer. Two of the souls appear to be monks, and, whilst their inclusion, like that of the priests in Cenni di Francesco’s predella, could be construed as a criticism of certain religious orders, it may also serve to show the viewer the universality of Purgatory. As opposed to those in Hell, these souls, although also facing right, appear to be preparing to exit the realm of Purgatory, rather than going further into the realm as they do in Hell. The fact that they are looking towards St. Michael suggests that his help will be needed in order to leave this realm. However, the souls are not shown moving out of the cavern, from which there is no obvious exit, and there is no final destination depicted either, showing that, unlike Dante, Giovanni di Paolo presents quite a fixed purgation. Indeed, unlike the souls in the predella panels above, these souls are not dressed in white but remain naked, like the souls in Hell. This could suggest that they have not yet completed purgation, but, as there is no clear onward path for them to follow, it also creates uncertainty as to whether they will ultimately be united with the divine. The use of bright gold to decorate the background hints at the divinity of the landscape in which Christ is seated, but there is no suggestion that the souls in Purgatory will eventually join Christ in it, as they do in Dante’s Commedia. Giovanni would later provide the illuminations for a manuscript of Dante’s Paradiso (c. 1445), suggesting that he would have had a certain level of familiarity with the poem, but it is unclear whether he would have had access to Dante’s text when painting this altarpiece in the 1420s-1430s.60 Any potential engagement with Dante in Giovanni’s depiction of this realm is therefore uncertain and the role of Purgatory for the salvation of souls remains ambiguous here. The context of the Last Judgement scene would seem to imply that those in Purgatory will finally reach Paradise and yet the souls’ transition between realms is not shown in this altarpiece, and their final destination is thus not made clear for the viewer. Although Purgatory and Hell are presented as independent realms, the elect are not pictured in
60 Pope-Hennessy, pp. 6-7. The manuscript is London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36.
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Paradise and this makes it difficult to clearly perceive a distinctive purpose for Purgatory. Moreover, while the role of St. Michael in allowing the souls to leave Purgatory is hinted at, he is not shown actively helping them to exit, and the main focus of the image therefore remains upon Christ, perhaps underlining the need for His sacrifice to facilitate salvation in this case. Giovanni di Paolo’s representation thus affords Purgatory a very ambiguous purpose, as although it is separate from Hell, it does not seem to be connected to Paradise as in Dante’s Purgatorio, and the fate of the souls within the realm therefore remains unclear.
Francesco Botticini, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1475-76, tempera on wood, 228.6 × 377.2cm, National Gallery, London Francesco Botticini’s single panel altarpiece of The Assumption of the Virgin (1475-76) was commissioned by the Florentine politician, humanist and poet, Matteo Palmieri (1406-1475), for his funerary chapel in San Pier Maggiore, a Benedictine convent church in Florence.61 After the church began to crumble in 1783 and was subsequently destroyed in 1784, the artworks within it were redistributed and the Botticini altarpiece was thus eventually transferred to the National Gallery, London.62
61 Sliwka, p. 9, p. 63. 62 Sliwka, pp. 71-72.
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Figure 56. Francesco Botticini, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1475-76, tempera on wood, 228.6 × 377.2cm, National Gallery, London.
In contrast to the altarpieces we have already examined, the dimensions of this altarpiece are particularly large, measuring 228.6 × 377.2cm.63 Occupying a central position at the top of this imposing image is the Virgin, who is seen kneeling at the feet of Christ having ascended into Heaven (Figure 56). The dome of Heaven that surrounds her is dominated by three concentric circles of angels, which also include depictions of saints, Old Testament figures and a sibyl. Beneath the prominent heavenly realm, the apostles are pictured around the tomb of the Virgin, which is filled with lilies and situated on top of a mountain. Here there is also a portrait of Palmieri kneeling in prayer on the left side of the mountaintop, and his wife Niccolosa de’ Serragli is similarly pictured on the right. The background depicts green countryside, rivers and mountains, whilst in the distance on the left there is a representation of the town of Fiesole and the city of Florence.64 There is also what appears to be a fortified city in the background on the right, which has not yet been identified and could perhaps function as an idealised city in this painting.65
63 This paragraph is informed by Sliwka, p. 9. 64 Sliwka suggests that the spire depicted in the city of Florence just above Palmieri’s nose belongs to the San Pier Maggiore church, for which this altarpiece was originally made (pp. 71-72). 65 Sliwka, p. 53, p. 73.
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Scholars have underlined the influence of artistic and poetic sources upon Botticini’s altarpiece, often focusing upon the influential role of Palmieri himself for the design of the image. Particular attention has been paid to Palmieri’s controversial theological poem, the Città di vita. This poem was deemed to be heretical as in it Palmieri endorsed ideas of Plato and Origen that were considered unorthodox at the time, namely that souls existed prior to conception, that they could be angelic in origin and that they were joined with a body before birth. The Città di vita is similar in theme and structure to Dante’s Commedia as it describes Palmieri’s journey through three realms of the afterlife in three separate books.66 However, rather than ascending through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise, affording equal space to each as Dante does, Palmieri instead begins his journey in the Elysian Fields in book one, where he describes the descent of the soul through the heavenly spheres to Earth where it is joined with the body. In book two he then travels down through Hell before finally ascending the twelve levels of the Mount of Virtues in book three, which ends with a vision of Heaven. The Mount of Virtues is divided into three sections relating, in ascending order, to civic virtues, purgatorial virtues and ideal virtues. Although the mountain appears to have a purgatorial function, Palmieri, unlike Dante, does not define an independent realm for Purgatory. As Botticini’s altarpiece was commissioned by Palmieri and depicts the hereafter, it is often seen to have been inspired by his Città di vita. Sliwka, however, challenges this reading in her analysis, claiming that whilst Palmieri clearly influenced the commission and composition of the altarpiece, ideas and philosophies from a number of his works can be identified in this image, although they may not have been recognised by everyone viewing the altarpiece.67 It is consequently quite difficult to view the altarpiece as a direct portrayal of the Città di vita alone. Sliwka instead focuses upon the significance of Dante and artistic representations of his Commedia for the composition of this image. She argues that Giovanni di Paolo’s manuscript illuminations of Dante’s Paradiso in Yates Thompson MS 36 (Figure 57) may have influenced the heavenly spheres, and the mountainous and city landscapes found in the Botticini altarpiece.
66 Claudio Finzi, Matteo Palmieri: dalla ‘Vita civile’ alla ‘Città di vita’ (Rome: Guiffrè, 1984), p. 21. 67 This paragraph is informed by Sliwka, p. 10, p. 39, p. 53, p. 55.
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Figure 57. London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 36 (Sienese, Giovanni di Paolo, c. 1450), fol. 147r.
Indeed, in this illumination Botticini appears to emulate the structure of the heavenly dome, which dominates the scene, as well as the use of blue and gold, the positioning of the figures, the colour of their robes and even the mountainous landscape below. Sliwka also suggests that Domenico di Michelino’s panel painting, La commedia illumina Firenze (1465), was a likely model for Botticini (Figure 58).68
Figure 58. Domenico di Michelino, La commedia illumina Firenze (1465), Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence.
68 Sliwka, pp. 41-42.
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As we have seen, this large painting was located in the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and would have been well-known to many Florentines.69 In Michelino’s painting the city of Florence is represented on the right in the foreground, where, unlike Botticini’s altarpiece, it appears to be attributed greater importance than the circles of Paradise above. Indeed, Sliwka shows that these paintings demonstrate the artistic tradition of linking Florence to the city of Jerusalem, as well as identifying it as the future Heavenly city or ‘New Jerusalem’.70 Michelino’s depiction of the Commedia is particularly important, however, when considering the representation of Purgatory in Botticini’s altarpiece. Mount Purgatory with its seven terraces and the Earthly Paradise at the summit occupies a central position in the background of Michelino’s image. Sliwka suggests that Botticini could be portraying a similar scene to Michelino, except that Florence is now viewed in the distance from the top of Mount Purgatory, where Palmieri and his wife are pictured in Eden instead of Adam and Eve who are depicted in Michelino’s image.71 Whilst Botticini’s mountain could also evoke Palmieri’s Mount of Virtues, which is divided into three sections where only the second focuses upon purgatorial virtues, Sliwka points out that Palmieri locates his Elysian Fields in the realm of the Fixed Stars, not at the summit of the mountain. It seems more likely, therefore, that Botticini represents the Earthly Paradise in his altarpiece, thereby mirroring the structure of Dante’s Purgatorio and thus implying that Palmieri and his wife must have journeyed through Purgatory to get there. Hence, according to Sliwka, the mountain in Botticini’s altarpiece represents Purgatory, with the Earthly Paradise at its peak, thereby following the Dantean tradition found in Michelino’s painting rather than Palmieri’s La Città di vita. Whether it was Botticini’s intention or not, fifteenth-century viewers may well have made connections to Dante’s text, rather than Palmieri’s writings, when examining this fresco. Busby and Kleinhenz demonstrate that there were over 800 codices dating from the 1330s to the fifteenth century that contained Dante’s Commedia, and, as we have
69 This paragraph is informed by Sliwka, pp. 39-42, p. 54, pp. 72-73. 70 On Florence as the ‘New Jerusalem’ see Philip Earenfight, ‘“Civitas Florenti[a]e”: The New Jerusalem and the Allegory of the Divine Misericordia’, in A Scarlet Renaissance: Essays in Honour of Sarah Blake McHam, ed. by Arnold Victor Coonin (New York: Italica Press, 2013), pp. 131-60; and Donald Weinstein, ‘The Myth of Florence’, in Florentine Studies: Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Nicolai Rubinstein (Evanston: North Western University Press, 1968), pp. 15-44. 71 If this is the case, then the undefined city in the background on the right of Botticini’s altarpiece could be the city of Hell from Michelino’s image.
194 seen, it was a very well-known text amongst all levels of society.72 By contrast, Alessandra Mita Ferraro explains that we currently only have evidence of 5 manuscripts of Palmieri’s La Città di vita, all dating from the fifteenth century, although a few of these make reference to copies that are now lost.73 Whilst it is therefore difficult to establish the exact number of copies of Palmieri’s poem that were in circulation after it was completed in 1464, the number of manuscripts of the Commedia would have been far greater and they would have been circulating for much longer than the Città di vita by the time Botticini began painting his altarpiece in 1475. Mita Ferraro explains that after completing a first draft of the poem in 1464, Palmieri’s friend Leonardo Dati asked him to revise the content before publication, as he was concerned about Palmieri’s potentially heretical views concerning the origin of the soul and the status of the neutral angels.74 However, the revised version of Palmieri’s poem was still considered distinctly unorthodox and it is perhaps for this reason that in 1466 the Città di vita was only circulated privately in Florence.75 It was most likely read by members of the Accademia Platonica, including the humanist philosophers Marsilio Ficino (1433-99) and Alamanno Rinuccini (1426-1504), suggesting that Palmieri envisaged a select, well-educated audience for his work.76 Palmieri continued to revise the poem during this time and the final version, with a commentary and introduction by Dati, was eventually completed in manuscript form in 1472.77 Mita Ferraro shows, however, that Palmieri left this particular manuscript, now known as the Laurenziano Pluteo manuscript, to the Proconsul of the Art of Judges and Notaries on the condition that it was not to be circulated until after his
72 Busby and Kleinhenz, p. 230. 73 Alessandra Mita Ferraro, ‘Matteo Palmieri’s City of Life: The Original Idea of Three Opportunities for Salvation’, International Journal of Literature and Arts, 2 (2014), 230-39 (pp. 236-37). Mita Ferraro lists the following as manuscripts of the Città di vita: Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, MS Pluteo, XL 53 (fifteenth century); Florence, National Library, Magliabechiano II. II. 41 (fifteenth century); Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, F. 139 sup. (fifteenth century); Rome, Vatican Library, Barberiniano Latino 4109 (fifteenth century); and Modena, Estense Library, 211 Gamma S. 5. 28 (late fifteenth century). 74 Unfortunately, the first draft no longer exists, see Mita Ferraro, p. 236; and Matteo Palmieri, Libro del poema chiamato ‘Città di vita’, composto da Matteo Palmieri Florentino, transcribed from the Laurentian MS XL 53 and compared with the Magliabechiano II ii 41, in Smith College Studies in Modern Languages, ed. by Margaret Rooke, 2 vols (Northampton, MA: Smith College, 1926-28), I, (xiv-xv). The letters from Dati to Palmieri in August 1464 and January 1465 show that Dati considered certain aspects of the first draft of the Città di vita that Palmieri had sent to him distinctly heretical, and so, whilst he agreed to write a commentary, he asked Palmieri to revise these elements of the poem. 75 Mita Ferraro, p. 236. 76 Mita Ferraro, p. 236. See also, Arnaldo della Torre, Storia della accademia platonica di Firenze (Florence: G. Carnesecchi, 1902), pp. 492-93,
195 death.78 Although abridged copies were made of it, the manuscript itself did not circulate in Florence, and the general public did not have access to the Città di vita at all during Palmieri’s lifetime.79 As Botticini’s altarpiece was painted in 1475-76 for Palmieri’s funerary chapel, it is therefore highly unlikely that the first viewers of this image would have been very familiar with the Città di vita, given that there were few copies in existence and that these would only have begun to circulate more widely after Palmieri’s death on 13 April 1475. However, despite the relatively small number of manuscripts, Sliwka claims that the Città di vita became known beyond Florence by the 1480s.80 She suggests that this was largely due to texts such as Cristoforo Landino’s commentary to Dante’s Commedia (1480), which was the first widely circulated work to mention the heresy associated with Palmieri’s poem, and that Palmieri’s links to heresy were subsequently elaborated upon in texts such as the Supplementum chronicarum (1483) by Filippo da Bergamo. Meanwhile, Giorgio Vasari in his Vite (1550) is thought to be the first writer to have connected the unorthodoxy of Palmieri’s poem with Botticini’s altarpiece. Drawing on the work of Giuseppe Richa, Sliwka shows that the increasing concern regarding the heresy of Palmieri’s poem led the priests of San Pier Maggiore to cover the painting and close the Palmieri chapel, which could also explain why at some point the faces of Palmieri and his wife were scratched out.81 The precautions taken by the priests to hide Botticini’s image clearly demonstrate that the altarpiece was seen to represent the controversial Città di vita and that it must have been on display to a sufficient number of viewers who would have been aware of this to warrant the measures taken. Richa claims that the priests did, however, eventually allow access to the painting once again, suggesting that the content of the image was no longer considered to be unorthodox. Although Palmieri’s association with heresy may have become more widely known following his death, the controversy surrounding the poem and the limited number of manuscripts available may have prevented many people from becoming familiar with the text itself. Thus, given the popularity of the Commedia in this period, most viewers looking at this altarpiece were probably still more likely to draw parallels with the work of Dante, especially his Purgatorio, rather than Palmieri’s lesser known Città di vita.
78 Mita Ferraro, p. 230, p.236. 79 Mita Ferraro, p. 236; Rooke, I, vii. 80 This paragraph is informed by Sliwka, pp. 51-53. 81 See Giuseppe Richa, Notizie istoriche delle chiese fiorentine, 10 vols (Florence: Viviani, 1754), I, 160-61.
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Sliwka considers the possibility that some Florentines may even have made the connection between the depiction of Palmieri in the altarpiece and Dante in Michelino’s painting, which may have encouraged them to recognise ‘the portrayal of Palmieri as the “new Dante”’.82 Whether this signifies that Botticini actually represents the Earthly Paradise at the top of Mount Purgatory in this image or not, however, remains unclear. The summit of the mountain in the Botticini altarpiece does not appear to have many of the characteristics of the Earthly Paradise found in biblical tradition or in Dante’s poem. In Purgatorio, Dante describes the Earthly Paradise as a ‘divina foresta spessa e viva’ (Purg., XXVIII. 2), with fragrant air, a gentle breeze, flowers and birdsong coming from the trees. He also includes two rivers from the classical tradition, the Lethe and the Eunoë, as opposed to the four rivers described in Genesis. This tradition of representing the Earthly Paradise as a luscious and pure garden was widespread and would thus have been easily recognisable for the viewer. By contrast, Botticini represents a dark, rocky and barren plateau at the top of the mountain in this image, which means that it is not particularly easy to identify this space with the Earthly Paradise. Sliwka has suggested that, when read in relation to Dante’s and Palmieri’s poems, the two rivers in the background of Botticini’s scene could represent the Lethe and the Eunoë rivers from Dante’s Earthly Paradise, which the souls drink from firstly to forget their sins or angelic origins and then to remember their good deeds before entering Heaven.83 If this were the case, the entire background landscape that the rivers run through could therefore be seen to represent the Earthly Paradise. The landscape on the mountaintop, however, would remain ambiguous in this context, as its eschatological function is unclear if the Earthly Paradise is apparently located below. The inclusion of the apostles and the tomb of the Virgin alongside Palmieri and his wife also creates confusion when attempting to identify the landscape of the mountaintop. Mary’s tomb occupies a central position on the mountain, forming a focal point for the apostles who surround it. The tomb is filled with lilies, which, as we have seen, were identified with the apostles by Dante in Paradiso XXIII 74-75, who claimed their fragrance would lead souls to salvation.84 Lilies were also associated with the chastity of Mary, as well as with the Bride and the Resurrection in the Bible.85 The lilies are thus
82 Sliwka, p. 55. 83 Sliwka, p. 75. 84 Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 679. 85 Durling, II, 521; Hollander, Purgatorio, p. 679.
197 explicitly linked to the Virgin, as well as being symbolic of a new life in union with God, which began, for Dante, at the top of Mount Purgatory. However, the Virgin’s death and Assumption, although not recounted in the Bible, were thought to have taken place in Jerusalem, where the apostles arrived miraculously at her deathbed.86 There is thus little biblical or legendary evidence that could explain Botticini’s location of the Virgin’s tomb on a mountain in a scene of the Assumption. Many earlier visual representations of the Assumption, such as the fourteenth-century Madonna Assunta in cielo da un coro di Angeli by Bartolomeo Bulgarini (1337-1378), which was originally housed in the Ospedale di Santa Maria della Scala in Siena, do not include a mountainous landscape and the Virgin’s deathbed is not depicted at all (Figure 59).
Figure 59. Bartolomeo Bulgarini, Madonna Assunta in cielo da un coro di Angeli, fourteenth century, panel painting, 205 × 112cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. Photograph my own.
Bulgarini’s altarpiece portrays a large and dominant Madonna in Paradise, surrounded by angels, and is almost entirely decorated in gold.87 There is one figure dressed in blue beneath the Virgin, who appears to be holding up a golden belt towards her. This belt represents the Girdle of Thomas, or the Virgin’s Girdle, which, according to legend, Mary
86 Sliwka, p. 72. 87 Henk Van Os, Sienese Altarpieces 1215-1460, 2 vols (Groningen: Egbert Forsten Publishing, 1988-90), II (1990), 146-47.
198 was said to have dropped from the sky to Saint Thomas the Apostle as proof of her Assumption into Heaven. Although St. Thomas is located beneath the Virgin in Bulgarini’s image, where the viewer is able to identify with him, he is not situated within any visible landscape.88 By contrast, in many examples of later Sienese altarpieces, dating from the same period as Botticini’s image, a green and mountainous landscape is depicted beneath the Virgin.89 These include La pala di staggia (fifteenth century) by Giovanni di Paolo (1403-1482), which was originally housed in the San Silvestro church in Staggia Senese, the Assunzione della Vergine (fifteenth century) by Sano di Pietro (1405-1481) and the Polittico dell’Assunta (1479), also by Sano di Pietro and originally housed in the Convento degli Umiliati di Santa Petronilla, Siena.90
Figure 60. Giovanni di Paolo, La Pala di Staggia, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, 199 × 210 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. Photograph my own.
88 Van Os, II, 146-47. 89 On the history of Siena and the Virgin, see Diana Norman, Siena and the Virgin: Art and Politics in a Late Medieval City State (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), pp. 1-17. 90 See also, amongst others, Matteo di Giovanni, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1474, National Gallery, London (Baxandall, Painting and Experience, pp. 43-44); and for a much later example, Raphael, Coronation of the Virgin, 1483-1520, Vatican Museum, Rome (Thomas, p. 255).
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Figure 61. Sano di Pietro, Assunzione della Figure 62. Sano di Pietro, Polittico Vergine, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, dell’Assunta, 1479, tempera on panel, 242 × 71.7 × 53 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. 268 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena. Photograph my own. Photograph my own.
These altarpieces demonstrate that the inclusion of fertile, mountain scenery in depictions of the Assumption was not particularly unusual in the fifteenth century. In Giovanni di Paolo’s La Pala di Staggia, St. Thomas is pictured receiving the Virgin’s Girdle in a mountainous landscape next to Mary’s empty tomb (Figure 60), and in Sano di Pietro’s Polittico dell’Assunta, although the Virgin’s tomb is not depicted, both St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist are pictured, alongside a supposed portrait of the female commissioner, in a clearly mountainous landscape (Figure 62).91 Moreover, in Sano di Pietro’s Assunzione della Vergine, and alongside the mountains in his Polittico dell’Assunta, the saints are depicted in a landscape that is filled with green plants and flowers (Figures 61 and 62), which could evoke a more convincing Earthly Paradise than the barren, rocky mountaintop in Botticini’s representation. Despite a lack of biblical or legendary evidence, in certain fourteenth- and fifteenth-century artistic depictions of the Assumption, therefore, Mary’s tomb seems to have been portrayed alongside a varying
91 For more on images of kneeling patrons, see Nigel Morgan, ‘Patrons and Devotional Images in English Art of the International Gothic c.1350-1450’, in Reading Texts and Images: Essays on Medieval and Renaissance Art and Patronage in honour of Margaret M. Manion, ed. by Bernard Muir (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2002), pp. 93-121.
200 number of apostles in a landscape that could represent the Earthly Paradise. However, while mountains are visible in the background of both Sano di Pietro and Giovanni di Paolo’s altarpieces, there is little evidence to suggest that the apostles are situated on top of a mountain themselves, as in Botticini’s altarpiece. Indeed, the main focus of both Sano di Pietro and Giovanni di Paolo’s altarpieces, like Bulgarini’s depiction, appears to be the representation of the Madonna rather than the landscape. They portray a large figure of the Virgin who dominates the scene, surrounded by gold decoration and angels playing musical instruments. Botticini’s representation in Figure 56, on the other hand, offers a stark contrast to these images in its portrayal of a relatively small figure of the Madonna, who does not take centre-stage but instead kneels before Christ at the very top edge of the image. Moreover, the Virgin’s Girdle, commonly found in images of the Assumption, is not included in Botticini’s altarpiece and this seems to further shift the focus of Botticini’s image away from the actions of the Madonna and towards the heavenly and earthly landscape. Thus, while Botticini’s use of mountainous scenery was not unusual in an image of the Assumption, his emphasis upon the surrounding landscape rather than the Madonna, and his positioning of the apostles and Mary’s tomb at the summit of a mountain, were far more innovative and could even suggest the influence of Dante’s Mount Purgatory. Working in the context of fourteenth- to fifteenth-century Sienese painting, Benjamin David has underlined how patrons actively encouraged artists to incorporate previous representational traditions into their work, which could offer an explanation for the close resemblance of many of these paintings of the Assumption.92 It was not only the patrons who influenced this trend, however, as David also emphasizes the role of the artist’s collaborative working practices for this ‘visual coherence’.93 However, although the similarities with other images of the Assumption are evident, we have seen that Botticini’s placement of the apostles beneath the Virgin in barren surroundings at the top of a mountain was not as common. While Botticini’s incorporation of previous imagery of the Assumption alongside more innovative motifs may have arisen from the demands of the patron, Diana Norman underlines that the artistic process itself often involved both
92 David, pp. 83-91. On the differences between Sienese and Florentine depictions of the Assumption, see Henk Van Os, Sienese Altarpieces 1215-1460, 2 vols (Groningen: Egbert Forsten Publishing, 1988-1990), II (1990), 140, 147. 93 David, p. 90. On the making of copies and consistency of style within a workshop, see Thomas, p. 213, p. 221, and p. 246 in particular.
201 the imitation and reformulation of established imagery.94 Indeed, rather than focusing on the story of the Assumption, as is seen in the altarpieces above that concentrate predominantly upon the representation of Mary and St. Thomas receiving her Girdle, Botticini’s altarpiece appears to focus in more detail upon the landscape of Earth, Paradise and perhaps also Purgatory. This could therefore reflect the tradition of artistic reformulation in the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries, as well as the interests of the patron, who may have wanted to attribute greater importance to the realms themselves in the salvation process.95 The coexistence of different figures on the mountain, however, leads to further ambiguity regarding the purpose of the mountain landscape in this scene. Whilst it would be conceivable to find the more contemporary figures of Palmieri and his wife on a purgatorial mountain, the presence of the apostles on the summit of the mountain at the moment of the Virgin’s Assumption suggests that the realm represented here is divine, as saints would not be present in Purgatory.96 In Dante’s Purgatorio, however, the blessed Beatrice comes down from Heaven and meets Dante-pilgrim in the Garden at the top of Mount Purgatory, and the opening canto of the Paradiso then begins in the Earthly Paradise. Thus, if the Earthly Paradise were to be viewed as a place of ascension, as it is in Dante’s Commedia, then it would be perfectly possible for the apostles and Mary to be located within it at the summit of Purgatory. Regardless of whether the Earthly Paradise is represented at the peak of the mountain or not, it seems that the main priority in this altarpiece is to portray Paradise itself. The fact that only the top of the mountain is included in this image suggests that, if it does represent Purgatory, then the process of purgation is not regarded as especially significant here. As most of Mount Purgatory has been left out, it is the final destination of the souls, and in this case the Virgin, that is foregrounded in this composition. Unlike the previous predella images we examined, which portrayed Purgatory as a violent and infernal realm, here there is no punishment depicted at all and the viewer sees only the final result of purgation, which links Purgatory directly to Paradise. Thus, if the mountain in this image
94 Norman, p. 211. See also Deborah Lubera Kawsky, The Survival, Revival and Reappraisal of Artistic Tradition: Civic Art and Civic Identity in Quattrocento Siena (unpublished doctoral thesis, Princeton University, 1995). 95 Rubin underlines that invention, or ‘the finding of subjects’, became important in altarpiece design in the third quarter of the fifteenth century, and she uses Palmieri as an example of a patron who provided a new design for his altarpiece (p. 206). Rubin also highlights the focus on artistic skill in the sixteenth century which meant that altarpieces could be ‘viewed as an occasion for opinion rather than devotion’ but explains that the Council of Trent reaffirmed the instructive role of images for devotion (p. 211). 96 The Assumption image was also often seen to represent a guarantee of life after death (Van Os, II, 151).
202 does represent Purgatory, Botticini seems to offer an even more heavenly conception of the realm than that found in Dante. However, just as the previous images sought to emphasize the role of Saint Lawrence, Saint Michael, or Christ in saving souls from a fiery Purgatory rather than focusing on the realm itself, so too in Botticini’s altarpiece the emphasis remains upon the transition of the Virgin into Paradise, rather than the realm of Purgatory that could help other souls reach salvation. This is particularly evident when considering the figures of Palmieri and his wife, who are both pictured kneeling in a prayerful gesture rather than actively moving towards Paradise themselves. There is little sense of a journey or progression for these souls in this image and the viewer is left to assume that their purgatorial journey has already taken place. The static nature of this image is reinforced by the fact that the Virgin is also kneeling: like Palmieri’s assumed journey through Purgatory in this image, her transition into Paradise has already taken place. The lack of movement seems to reinforce the idea that it is only the saints who are worthy of salvation here, as it is not made clear whether Palmieri and his wife, arguably the only ‘ordinary’ souls in this image, will also ascend to reside in the heavenly circles above. Indeed, this uncertainty regarding the transition of the souls towards Paradise is reinforced by the representation of the Heavenly city in the altarpiece. In the predella panels of Saint Lawrence examined above, the depiction of city architecture was used to signify the Heavenly city, which the souls were usually moving towards having left Purgatory. In Botticini’s altarpiece, on the other hand, there are multiple cities depicted in the distance and there is thus no single clearly defined entrance for the souls to pass through. If the cities in this altarpiece were to represent the Heavenly city, then the surrounding countryside could potentially be the Earthly Paradise, as Sliwka has suggested. However, Palmieri and his wife are not moving towards these cities but instead seem to be focused on the dome of Heaven above, which offers a much more concrete representation of Paradise. The static position of Palmieri and his wife as they gaze upwards toward Paradise could echo the moment in Palmieri’s Città di vita where he is said to have had a vision of Heaven at the top of the Mount of Virtues. Given the small number of manuscripts that were circulating of Palmieri’s poem, however, it is more likely that the use of the mountain motif in this image would not have evoked Palmieri’s Città di vita but rather Dante’s Purgatorio in the minds of the viewers, whether this was Botticini’s intention or not.
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It appears then that while certain poetic texts and geographical locations, as well as diverse aspects of theology and patronage, all influenced this painting, these different elements do not necessarily cohere when they are brought together in one image. The identification of Purgatory in this altarpiece therefore remains ambiguous. By contrast, the spatial composition of the image allows the viewer to clearly recognise Paradise. Although, like the other paintings, this altarpiece focuses upon the life of a saint, in this case the Virgin, the limited space attributed to her in comparison to other Assumption altarpieces seems to diminish her importance in this image, and it is instead the immense dome of Heaven that really captures the attention of the viewer. The dominant portrayal of Paradise would therefore seem to eclipse the role of the Virgin, as well as any possible representation of Purgatory. However, if Purgatory is included here, the heavenly focus of the image could suggest that Purgatory performs a greater role as a realm in the journey to salvation than in the other images we have seen, which focus instead upon the saving actions of Christ, St. Michael or St. Lawrence. Thus, if Purgatory is present, then there may be implicit ‘layered engagement’ with Purgatorio in this altarpiece as, like Dante, Botticini demonstrates a far more heavenly and purposeful conception of the realm than the other images examined above.
Conclusion Although altarpiece representations of Purgatory during the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries appear to be relatively scarce, these case studies demonstrate extensive variation in some of the few purgatorial depictions that there are, both in terms of the geographical characteristics of the realm and its spiritual purpose. While Cenni di Francesco and Giovanni di Paolo both depict underground realms for Purgatory with clearly defined boundaries, the flames that characterize Lorenzo di Niccolò’s representation and the mountain motif in Botticini’s altarpiece offer more ambiguous perimeters for the realm. Moreover, while the two predella panels of Saint Lawrence contain clear entrances to Paradise, suggesting that the souls are going to progress towards salvation, Giovanni di Paolo does not give any clear indication of the souls’ movement or final destination in his representation of Purgatory. Botticini’s altarpiece, on the other hand, is dominated by the portrayal of Paradise, hinting at a much more heavenly conception of Purgatory than is found in the other altarpieces, and yet in this case the identification of Purgatory remains uncertain. Indeed, as none of these images portray a clear physical exit from Purgatory, it is often difficult to discern its geographical confines, or its presence at all, and this creates
204 further ambiguity regarding the spiritual purpose of purgation. It would therefore seem that, as Purgatory remains ambiguous and peripheral in these images, artists and commissioners, unlike Dante, chose not to highlight the role of the realm itself in the afterlife. Instead, Purgatory appears to be included predominantly in order to complement the main subject of the altarpiece, which in these examples could be either the role of Saint Lawrence, Christ at the Last Judgement, or Paradise and the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The influence of these different ‘tributaries’ means that Purgatory is not attributed the same significance as Dante’s Purgatorio.97 Some of these altarpiece depictions do include elements of Dante’s hopeful and salvific realm, which is associated with Paradise rather than Hell while remaining physically distinct, thereby hinting at the indirect influence of Dante. However, this potential ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio is less apparent than that seen in certain frescoes from chapter two. It appears then that in contrast to Dante’s conception of Purgatory, which is given equal space to that of Inferno and Paradiso in his poem, Purgatory continues to remain nebulous and marginalised in both the frescoes and altarpieces we have examined. Indeed, Dante’s explicitly tertiary and trinitarian division of the afterlife is not found in these artistic depictions. While it can be argued that in Domenico di Michelino’s image, for example, Purgatory occupies an equal or even more dominant position than the other realms, this is not replicated in the depictions we have examined, which do not directly represent Dante’s poem. It is possible that Purgatory was more likely to be intermediary in artistic portrayals as Hell and Paradise were more traditional subjects to depict, with a strong iconographic precedent to follow, whereas Purgatory lacked both established theological and artistic models. While scholars such as Jacques Le Goff and Eileen Gardiner have argued that Dante offered a truly unique conception of Purgatory that synthesized preceding, disparate ideas about the realm and finally established the shape of Purgatory, these artistic representations present a challenge to this teleological approach.98 Although the depictions in these frescoes and altarpieces underline the exceptional nature of Dante’s notion of Purgatory, they also demonstrate that the ambiguity surrounding both the physical attributes and the spiritual purpose of the realm of Purgatory persisted long after the composition of the Commedia. Thus, rather than an
97 Orr, pp. 84-85. 98 See Gardiner, ‘Visions and Journeys’, pp. 341-53; and Le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory.
205 exceptional culmination of ideas concerning Purgatory, Dante’s Purgatorio is perhaps better understood as an anomaly in the wider context of representations of Purgatory.
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Chapter Four: A Vernacular Literary Purgatory: Frezzi’s Quadriregio
This chapter will examine Federico Frezzi’s early fifteenth-century depiction of Purgatory in the Quadriregio (1394-1403). The Quadriregio tells the story of a young Frezzi as he embarks upon a journey through the afterlife.1 The protagonist is accompanied by various guides who help him progress through four different otherworldly realms: the Regno di Amore, the Regno di Satanasso, the Regno dei Vizi, and the Regno delle Virtù, where Purgatory is situated. In my analysis, I will consider how Frezzi responds to Dante’s distinctive handling of this middle realm of the afterlife. Studying a poem such as the Quadriregio, written at the turn-of-the-century, will also allow me to provide brief comparisons with the Città di vita (c. 1466) by Matteo Palmieri in order to demonstrate how the representation of Purgatory in this genre of otherworldly literature subsequently developed in the fifteenth century.2 I have chosen to include the Città di vita because Palmieri’s representation of the afterlife, and Purgatory in particular, has many structural similarities to the Quadriregio and both works have received minimal critical attention.3 Moreover, critics have rarely focused upon either of these authors’ conceptualizations of Purgatory as the main strand of analysis. Here, I will view Dante’s Purgatorio as part of the continuous representation of Purgatory in vernacular literature from the Italian peninsula. As well as considering how Frezzi engages with Dante’s concept of Purgatory, this chapter aims to broaden our understanding of the relationship between literary, theological and artistic depictions of the realm, when compared with the analysis of the previous chapters.
1 Elena Laureti underlines that the name of the protagonist is never explicitly mentioned, and scholars have assumed that it is Frezzi himself because the action takes place in Foligno, Frezzi’s native city. See Laureti, p. 26; and Francesco Scomparin, ‘Le rime del Quadriregio’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, Università Ca’Foscari Venezia, 2015/16), p. 5, p. 12. 2 On the context of the Città di vita by Matteo Palmieri, see amongst others, G. Boffito, ‘L’eresia di Matteo Palmieri, ‘Cittadin Fiorentino’’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 37 (1901), 1-69
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Historical Context Frezzi was a Dominican friar and the Quadriregio is his only known poem. He is said to have written it in a private cell in Foligno between 1394 and 1403.4 This poem in terza rima is seen to combine elements of scholasticism, doctrine, allegory and encyclopaedic knowledge from medieval culture, with praise of ancient pagan figures and a focus on classical episodes derived from the new, humanist culture.5 Writing in the vernacular was a relatively new practice for authors in the Trecento and must therefore be viewed in relation to the Latin writing culture which still dominated society in this period.6 Indeed, Francesco Bruni implies that writing poetry, especially vernacular poetry, was an extremely unusual choice for a Dominican friar like Frezzi at this time.7 However, during the Trecento, Italian grew in status as a linguistic system for a range of diverse subject matters. Moreover, poetry was highly valued and therefore used to describe a huge range of topics in a variety of different stylistic registers. The increasingly important status of vernacular poetry may help to explain Frezzi’s choice, whilst also hinting that his intended audience was highly educated. Relatively little is known about the life of Frezzi (c. 1346-1416) as there are only a few isolated instances of documentation in which he is mentioned, and consequently he has not been subject to much recent scholarly attention, especially amongst Dante scholars.8 This is likely due to the fact that there is no existing documentary evidence to suggest that Frezzi actively engaged with Dante’s Commedia, notwithstanding the Dantean aspects of the poem’s form. As any Dantean engagement in the Quadriregio will be inferred from the text alone, I will use Lyne’s notion of ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality
4 See Maurizio Cucchi, ‘Frezzi, Federico’, in Dizionario della poesia italiana, ed. by Maurizio Cucchi (Milan: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, 1983), p. 145; Foà, ‘Frezzi, Federico’; and Natalino Sapegno, ‘Il Trecento’, in Storia letteraria d’Italia (Milan: Vallardi, 1933), pp. 112-39 (p. 132). 5 See Andrea Ciotti, ‘Commedia: imitatori trecenteschi’, in Enciclopedia Dantesca, 6 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1970-78), II (1970), 99-100; Cucchi, p. 145; Laureti, pp. 33-34, p. 483; Petrocchi, II, 60; and Rotondi, pp. 72-75. On humanism and poetry in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, see David Roby, ‘Humanist Views on the Study of Italian Poetry in the Early Italian Renaissance’, in The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. by George Kennedy and others, 9 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990-2013), II: The Middle Ages, ed. by Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson (2005), 626-47, (pp. 628-29). 6 See Steven Botterill, ‘The Trecento: Minor Writers’, in The Cambridge History of Italian Literature, ed. by Peter Brand and Lino Pertile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 108-30 (pp. 109-20); and The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. by George Kennedy and others, 9 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990-2013), II: The Middle Ages, ed. by Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson (2005). 7 Francesco Bruni, ‘La letterature didattica: tentativi di poema’, in Dalle origini al Trecento: storia della civiltà letteraria italiana, ed. by Giorgio Barbèri Squarotti, Francesco Bruni and Ugo Dotti, 6 vols (Turin: UTET, 1990-2003), I (1990), 579-93 (p. 586). 8 See Rotondi, Federico Frezzi: la vita e l’opera.
208 to consider how Frezzi engages with Dante’s Purgatorio in this chapter. My approach will also take into account Frezzi’s religious background, as this may help to explain his choice to expand upon selected aspects of Christian theology and moral discourses throughout the poem, as Palmieri does in the Città di vita.9 It is likely that Frezzi grew up in Foligno before becoming a Dominican friar and professor of theology in the universities of Florence (1376), Pisa (1378) and Bologna (1387-90).10 After obtaining his ‘magister in teologia’ between 1390-91 in Bologna, it seems that he mostly stayed in Foligno, during which time he wrote the Quadriregio. In 1400, Frezzi became ‘priore generale della provincia romana’, which placed him in charge of all the Dominican convents in central Italy, thereby showing that Frezzi had gained significant authority by this time.11 Frezzi’s religious authority reached its peak when he was made Bishop of Foligno by Pope Boniface IX on 16 November 1403. Following this appointment, Frezzi was tasked with enriching Foligno, both materially and culturally, until his death in 1416, which occurred while he was attending the Council of Constance (1414-18).12 Frezzi was thus a figure of substantial religious authority and influence during his lifetime, and so his decision to write a poem in terza rima can therefore offer an important insight into the relationship between theology and vernacular literature at this time.
Circulation While literacy in the Trecento began to increase and to create new readers, Steven Botterill suggests that vernacular texts at this time would still have been read predominantly by those who were wealthy and educated.13 He explains that it would have been more common for this wealthy audience to access vernacular devotional material rather than the vernacular literature of Trecento poets, which would probably have been
9 The following account of Frezzi’s life is informed by the helpful summary given by Simona Foà; see Simona Foà, ‘Frezzi, Federico’, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, L (1998),
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written for a relatively small audience consisting mainly of other writers.14 This would seem to imply that the audience for Frezzi’s poem would have been quite restricted initially. While Botterill has argued that access to manuscripts was still relatively limited in the Trecento, as they were both costly and rare, the work of scholars such as Rhiannon Daniels and Christian Bec demonstrates that the readers of manuscripts were not always wealthy elites.15 They instead came from a variety of social backgrounds, including merchants and middle-class readers.16 Jane Everson shows that by the mid-fifteenth century there were people from many levels of society, including those of lower social status, regularly borrowing vernacular romances and narrative poems from the Este library in Ferrara.17 Readers of a low social status in the fifteenth century may therefore have accessed the Quadriregio by borrowing it from a library. It is possible that audiences with lower literacy levels may have encountered these texts via public readings, but the oral dissemination of Frezzi’s work remains uncertain. This presents an interesting point of comparison, not only with the larger audience that would have had access to Dante’s Commedia and its commentaries, as we have seen, but also with the more socially diverse population that potentially would have been viewing the frescoes and altarpieces examined in the previous chapter. While Dante’s Commedia had reached a very wide audience by the fifteenth century, the dissemination of the Quadriregio was not as prolific. In contrast to the 800 codices of the Commedia, dating from the 1330s through the fifteenth century, the Quadriregio only survives in 30 manuscripts dating from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.18 Frezzi’s poem is thought to have initially circulated in its entirety and, although early manuscripts present different titles for the work and do not usually include the author’s name, most
14 Botterill, ‘The Trecento: Minor Writers’, p. 113. 15 See Bec, Les livres des Florentins, p. 34, p. 62; and Rhiannon Daniels, Boccaccio and the Book: Production and Reading in Italy 1340-1520 (London: Legenda, 2009), pp. 18-24. 16 Daniels, pp. 18-24, pp. 172-77. 17 Jane Everson’s study looks at the borrowings from the Este library in Ferrara during the 1450s and 1460s in particular, see Jane Everson, ‘Read What I Say And Not What I Read: Reading and the Romance Epic in Fifteenth-century Ferrara’, Italian Studies, 58 (2003), 31-47 (pp. 42-43). 18 On the Quadriregio manuscripts, see B. H. Breslauer, ‘The Author and the Book’, in Federico Frezzi, Il Quadriregio with an Essay by B. H. Breslauer (London: Roxburghe Club, 1998), pp. 15-22 (pp. 16-17); Laureti, pp. 493-99, pp. 508-09; and Scomparin, pp. 50-56. Laureti demonstrates that 23 of these manuscripts of the Quadriregio were composed in the 1400s, but that there are only 8 with known dates of composition, and these date from 1421 to 1476. Some of the undated manuscripts are thought to be even earlier than 1421. Scomparin demonstrates that there are also 5 manuscripts containing only fragments of the Quadriregio (p. 50). On the circulation of the Commedia, see Busby and Kleinhenz, p. 230; and Prue Shaw, ‘Transmission History’, in The Cambridge Companion to Dante’s ‘Commedia’, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Simon Gilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), pp. 229-44 (p. 240), who shows that c. 300 of the manuscripts of the Commedia are from the Trecento, with 80 copied before 1355.
210 still have a dedication to Ugolino III Trinci who was Lord of Foligno from 1386 to 1415 and is believed to have been Frezzi’s patron.19 Manuscripts of the Quadriregio appear to have circulated firstly amongst Dominican convents in central and northern Italy, including Florence, Città di Castello, Bevagna, Perugia, Bologna, Ferrara and Rome.20 However, the Quadriregio also became known beyond the confines of Dominican monasteries, as seen by the fact that there were seven printed editions of Frezzi’s poem between 1481 and 1511.21 Although this is fewer than the nine editions of the Commedia and the eleven editions of Boccaccio’s Decameron printed in the Italian peninsula between 1481 and 1510, it is a significant number when compared, for example, to another of Boccaccio’s works, the Corbaccio, which only had two editions printed during this time.22 Moreover, the editions of the Quadriregio were each published by a different printer and in five different cities, namely Perugia, Milan, Florence, Bologna and Venice.23 The fact that so many editions of the Quadriregio were published in such a short space of time underlines the relative popularity of Frezzi’s poem towards the end of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth century.24 Everson has shown that the Quadriregio was likely only considered to be economically worthwhile to print by 1481 because it already benefited from a significant number of manuscripts readers in the mid-fifteenth century.25 The circulation of the early Quadriregio manuscripts within Dominican monasteries was nevertheless fairly restricted in
19 Scomparin, p. 52. On the Quadriregio MS dedications to Ugolino III Trinci, see Laureti, pp. 508-09. The manuscript evidence demonstrates that Frezzi’s poem had a range of different titles, starting with Liber de Regnis and Libro dei regni, followed by Libro dei quattro regni or reami. It is only in the later codices and the printed editions from 1481 that the title Quadriregio or Quatriregio first appears. See Breslauer, pp. 15- 17; Laureti, p. 505; and Rotondi, pp. 68-69. 20 Scomparin, p. 52. 21 For more detail on these editions, including the 1508 edition printed in Florence by Piero Pacini da Pescia which contains 117 wood engravings, see Breslauer, pp. 16-17; Laureti, pp. 499-504; and Scomparin, pp. 57-58. 22 For editions of Boccaccio, see Brian Richardson, ‘The Corbaccio and Boccaccio’s Standing in Early Modern Europe’, Heliotropia, 14 (2017),
211 comparison to the sudden proliferation of print editions, suggesting that it was only until well after his death that Frezzi’s poem benefited from more widespread recognition. The fact that the Quadriregio began to reach a wider audience later on is particularly underlined when considering the extent of print runs at this time.26 Richardson demonstrates that the print run for the earliest Italian books could be as low as 100 or 200 copies, although the early runs in Florence and Venice were often around 300 to 400 copies. In the mid-1480s, however, the number of copies began to increase dramatically, as shown by the 1200 copies printed in Florence of Cristoforo Landino’s 1481 edition of Dante’s Commedia. In the Cinquecento it became normal for print runs in Florence and Venice to reach 1000 copies, and this could rise to 3000 copies for popular works. It is therefore possible that there were numerous copies of Frezzi’s poem in circulation in the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth centuries. Moreover, by the sixteenth century, as Richardson explains, books were relatively inexpensive and would have been widely available to people living in towns, as well as those in the countryside, who could be reached by travelling salesmen.27 Elena Laureti suggests, however, that given the literary nature of the Quadriregio, and the philosophical and theological arguments it treats, it would only have appealed to an educated, intellectual, humanist audience.28 Although there was still a relatively large social divide regarding literacy in the sixteenth century, which may have restricted Frezzi’s audience predominantly to the urban, educated classes, it is likely that the potentially large print runs for each edition of his poem would have reached a wider audience than the manuscript copies. After 1511, however, no more editions of Frezzi’s poem were produced until 1725. The Quadriregio becomes almost unattested in the late-sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and is misattributed for a long time to Niccolò Malpigli until it was rediscovered by scholars in the eighteenth century. The lack of new editions of Frezzi’s poem therefore contrasts with the continued printing of the Commedia and the greater importance attributed to Boccaccio’s writings in the Cinquecento, when he is promoted as a model for prose writing, alongside Petrarch as a model for verse.29 It is not clear, however, why the printing of the Quadriregio came to such a sudden end after 1511.
26 This paragraph is informed by Brian Richardson, Printing, Writers and Readers in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 21, p. 117. See also Angela Nuovo, Il commercio librario dell’editoria del Rinascimento (Milan: Franco Angeli, 1998). 27 Richardson suggests, however, that, ‘In Italy as in France, the printed book probably penetrated little into the peasant world, through a combination of low literacy, low availability and lack of need’ (p. 118). 28 Laureti, p. 502. 29 Richardson, ‘The Corbaccio and Boccaccio’s Standing in Early Modern Europe’, p. 47.
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Dantean influence upon poesia allegorico-didattica In many studies of Trecento literature, the Quadriregio is included as the last poem composed in this period in the category of poesia allegorico-didattica, namely poetry that is allegorical, doctrinal and didactic.30 This poetry is often considered to have been significantly influenced by Dante, and his Commedia in particular. Indeed, Botterill shows how writers in the Trecento would have used the work of Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio as models for their own compositions:
whether they responded with approbation or disdain, there can be no doubt that every writer who took up the pen in fourteenth-century Italy was aware of the precedents set by Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio – in Latin as well as in the (Tuscan) vernacular.31
Some poems in the category of poesia allegorico-didattica, such as the Acerba by Cecco d’Ascoli, were quite polemical in their engagement with Dante. While the rhyme scheme of the Acerba is influenced by Dante’s terza rima, Cecco deliberately opposes the allegorical style of the Commedia with the scientific content of his poem, thereby distancing his writing from that of Dante.32 As Francesco Scomparin notes, however, most of these poems encourage a comparison with the Commedia by using recurring Dantean elements.33 As well as the Quadriregio by Frezzi, there is evidence of the Commedia’s structural, textual and thematic imitation in poems such as the Dittamondo by Fazio degli Uberti, which impacts the poets’ choice of imagery, language, rhyme scheme, and certain narrative episodes.34 The frequent imitation of Dante in this genre of poetry has led to Frezzi being described as ‘l’ultimo degli imitatori trecenteschi della Commedia’.35 Scholars have often employed a subjective approach to the question of Dantean imitation in poesia allegorico-didattica, viewing the Commedia as too unique to be imitated effectively. This means that scholarship usually considers any attempt at
30 Other poems that are frequently found in the category of poesia allegorico-didattica include the anonymous Intelligenza (early fourteenth century), the Documenti d’Amore (1309-10) by Francesco da Barberino (1264-1348), the Acerba by Cecco d’Ascoli (1269-1327), the Dottrinale by Jacopo Alighieri (c. 1290-1348), the Dittamondo (1345-67) by Fazio degli Uberti (1301-67), the Ristorato (1363) by Ristoro Canigiani, the anonymous Virtù e vizio (late fourteenth century), the Fimerodia (1390-97) by Jacopo del Pecora da Montepulciano, the Vago Filogeo by Sabelo Michiel, the Pietosa Fonte by Zenone da Pistoia, and the Leandreide (1380-83) by Giangirolamo Natali. 31 Botterill, ‘The Trecento: Minor Writers’, p. 113. 32 Ciotti, II, 100. 33 Scomparin, p. 22. 34 Sapegno, ‘Il Trecento’, p. 129, pp. 132-33. 35 Negri, III, 56.
213 imitation by these writers to be of insufficient ‘quality’, as it inevitably fails to meet the high poetic standard they have set. Many critics are therefore quite disparaging towards poesia allegorico-didattica, including Frezzi’s poem, as they claim that these Trecento poets lacked poetic and artistic ability: ‘le opere […] si possono considerare enormi schegge di un sapere tradizionale, incapaci di un efficace rinnovamento interno alla tradizione’.36 This genre of Trecento literature has been criticised by modern critics for an excessive focus upon encyclopaedic erudition, rather than the philosophy which was central to the poetry of Dante and the stilnovisti.37 Indeed, Giorgio Petrocchi suggests that fourteenth-century writers had ‘un’esperienza piuttosto superficiale del pensiero filosofico’, preferring to reuse concepts from the thirteenth-century poets and to slavishly follow old doctrinal subjects in a manner which failed to engage the reader.38 The repeated use of negative, qualitative terms to describe this poetry means that it is often considered irrelevant and has thus been overlooked for detailed study. This poetry does, however, offer an important insight into Dante’s reception as, aside from certain poems listed above in the genre of poesia allegorico-didattica, ‘it is unusual to find any Trecento text that is directly inspired by either the narrative, the thematics or the poetic form of the Commedia’.39 Petrocchi suggests that this is because the unique nature of the Commedia made it difficult to emulate and so writers either preferred to turn to Dante’s earlier poetic works instead, or they only employed certain aspects of the Commedia, choosing to include doctrinal elements from the poem, for example, but not the afterlife setting.40 This is underlined by Andrea Ciotti, who demonstrates that the Commedia is now seen as a perfect model which these poets struggled to imitate effectively:
Sta di fatto che Dante, [...] non ebbe imitatori, nel senso che nessuno dopo di lui [...] riuscì a rinverdire i motivi e le forme di una poesia, che, per l’affetto che la pervade e per l’unione sintetica e fortissima efficacia di filtrazione ed espressione, è e resta irripetibile.41
36 Bruni, I, 588. 37 Bruni, I, 588; Sandro Orlando, ‘Poesia allegorico-didattica’, in Antologia della poesia italiana: Duecento - Trecento, ed. by Cesare Segre e Carlo Ossola (Rome: La biblioteca di Repubblica, 2004), p. 707. 38 Petrocchi, II, 582. While this scholarly opinion is widespread, Scomparin underlines that poesia allegorico-didattica was actually very popular in the Trecento, as shown by the manuscript evidence; there are around 40 surviving manuscripts of the Acerba by Cecco d’Ascoli, for example, and around 60 manuscripts of the Dittamondo by Fazio degli Uberti (Scomparin, p. 21). 39 Botterill, ‘The Trecento: Minor Writers’, pp. 112-13. 40 Petrocchi, II, 582. 41 Ciotti, II, 99.
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It appears, then, that despite the unquestionable influence of Dante upon the vernacular literary tradition in the Trecento, few writers attempted to imitate his Commedia, and those who did, whether textually, structurally or thematically, are often scorned by scholars in a manner that has often prevented a more analytical treatment of their texts. Works assigned to the category of poesia allegorico-didattica have therefore been considered inferior in relation to the Commedia which precedes it, and in whose shadow the genre has been consistently studied. By ignoring these poems because the imitation does not reach a certain subjective standard, scholarship has prevented detailed analysis of this poetry and this has, in turn, limited our understanding of Dante’s reception in late- medieval literary culture.
Frezzi’s engagement with Dante Frezzi’s engagement with Dante has not been analysed frequently or rigorously, with many critics simply implying that both the content and structure of Frezzi’s poem are inspired by Dante.42 There is no existing documentary evidence to prove Frezzi’s engagement with Dante in the Quadriregio and so this relationship can only be inferred from the text itself. The lack of extratextual evidence for Frezzi’s use of Dantean references, as well as the fact that the Quadriregio is considered by critics to be heavy and monotonous in its erudition and lacking in both poetic skill and narrative excitement, helps to explain the lack of critical interest in the relationship between the two authors.43 In the few instances where the relationship between the Quadriregio and the Commedia has been taken into account, Frezzi is primarily presented as a poor imitator of Dante, despite scholarly acknowledgement of the influence of other works upon Frezzi’s poem, such as Petrarch’s Trionfi and Boccaccio’s Amorosa visione, as well as the Roman de la Rose from the French tradition.44 The early twentieth-century scholar, Giuseppe Rotondi, provides a more thorough analysis of Frezzi’s relationship to the Commedia, offering a detailed thematic and linguistic comparison of selected episodes from the two poems.45 Throughout his study, however, he continues to view the Quadriregio as an
42 This suggests that Frezzi did not belong to the tradition of what Simon Gilson has called ‘structural dantismo’, where writers only imitate Dante’s use of the vernacular and his terza rima verse form, see Gilson, Dante and Renaissance Florence, p. 150. 43 Ciotti, II, 99-100; Cucchi, p. 145; Negri, III, 56; and Natalino Sapegno, ‘Il Trecento’, in Storia letteraria d’Italia (Milan: Vallardi, 1933), pp. 112-39 (pp. 132-33). 44 On Frezzi as a poor imitator of Dante. see Foà, ‘Frezzi, Federico’; Negri, III, 56; Rotondi, p. 94, p. 96; and Natalino Sapegno, Storia Letteraria del Trecento (Milan: Ricciardi, 1963), pp. 176-77 (p. 177). 45 See Rotondi, pp. 86-114.
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‘irreverente parodia’ of the Commedia, suggesting that Frezzi is only capable of ‘una pedissequa imitazione e una timida originalità’.46 Renzo Negri examines elements of Dantean influence in the Quadriregio more broadly, arguing that they can be found in Frezzi’s use of the vernacular, the terza rima verse form and the first person narration, as well as in the numerous dialogues between Frezzi and his guides, the use of contrapasso and exemplars, and the presence of prophecies and addresses to the reader.47 Negri also lists numerous examples of Dantean imagery, language and expressions which appear in the text of the Quadriregio, although they are often decontextualized, while Petrocchi notes citations of Dante in the Quadriregio with an example of the text inspired by Paradiso.48 However, in their studies of Dantean influence in the Quadriregio these later critics still evaluate Frezzi in terms of the quality of his imitation of Dante, and so they do not analyse his text and its specific modes of engagement with Dante in great detail. In her more recent study, Laureti strongly critiques scholars who have allowed constant, negative comparisons with the Commedia to dominate and ultimately nullify Frezzi’s contribution to vernacular literary culture in this period, and she instead underlines the importance of studying Frezzi as a poet in his own right.49 In my analysis, I will similarly outline the limitations of viewing the Quadriregio solely as an imitation of the Commedia, as, in the eyes of critics, Dante sets a standard that subsequent poets can never reach. Rather than simply considering Frezzi’s decontextualized Dantean references to be an indicator of poor Dantean imitation, I will instead analyse how Frezzi’s tendency to extract Dantean concepts from their original contexts and recombine them in the Quadriregio demonstrates a distinctive ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio.50
I will divide my study of the Quadriregio into subsections relating to prayer, landscape and transformation. Whilst my consideration of the landscape of Purgatory in this text will focus more broadly upon Dante’s structural influence, the sections on prayer and transformation will allow for a more detailed study of his thematic influence. The linguistic echoes of Dante’s Purgatorio will be considered throughout my analysis but
46 Rotondi, p. 94, p. 96. 47 Negri, III, 56. 48 Negri, III, 56; Petrocchi, II, 600-02. 49 Laureti, pp. 21-22, p. 26, p. 34, p. 37 and p. 499. On the importance of studying the Quadriregio as a work in its own right, rather than as a Dantean imitation, see also Enrico Fillippini, La materia del ‘Quadriregio’ (Menaggio: Baragiola, 1905). 50 The Poetry of Allusion, ed. by Jacoff and Schnapp, p. 9. For more on Frezzi’s decontextualization of Dante’s text, see Rotondi, p. 106; and Scomparin, p. 75.
216 will not constitute my primary focus. I have chosen to structure my study according to these three themes because together they offer an important insight into how both the physical and spiritual aspects of Purgatory are represented in these literary texts. I have chosen to analyse prayer because it plays a significant role in Dante’s Purgatorio. Moreover, while many aspects of Purgatory were poorly defined by the Church, the function of prayer for the dead was elaborated upon in more detail in the doctrinal statements of the Second Council of Lyons and in the works of theologians such as Thomas Aquinas, for example. This provides a firm theological foundation from which to examine the relationship between prayer and Purgatory in these texts and allows Dante’s influence to be situated within a defined religious context. I have also chosen to include sections on landscape and transformation because the geography of Dante’s Purgatory is intrinsically connected to its transformative purpose. As we have seen, however, the Church did not clearly define the geography or theology of this realm. This lack of consensus within the Church, as well as the fact that there was no established visual tradition for Purgatory, arguably led to considerable variation in the artistic depictions of Purgatory that we have seen, particularly concerning the physical structure of the realm. Furthermore, the response to Dante’s Purgatorio in the commentaries and illuminations of his poem demonstrated how some of Dante’s more controversial theological decisions were ultimately normalised. A consideration of both the topographical and spiritual elements of Purgatory in this literary example will therefore provide a clearer picture of how Frezzi engaged with Dante’s Purgatory, as well as allowing comparisons to be made with the different media we have examined in the previous chapters.
Purgatory within the structure of the Quadriregio The Quadriregio contains a total of seventy-four capitoli, which are divided into four books corresponding to four different realms of the afterlife.51 Purgatory is described in capitoli eighteen to twenty of the fourth book. Frezzi therefore does not give Purgatory a separate realm of its own, equal to that of Hell and Paradise, but instead situates it within the heavenly Regno delle Virtù. Purgatory is found in the realm of Speranza, who names
51 Petrocchi, II, 600. Scomparin demonstrates that the Quadriregio has 12,101 verses in total and the average length of each capitolo is 163 verses, with the shortest capitolo containing 148 verses and the longest 190 verses (Scomparin, p. 24, p. 51).
217 the sphere as ‘purgatoro’.52 There is consequently no ambiguity here regarding the presence of Purgatory. Frezzi’s Purgatory is immersed in a sphere of fire and, unlike Dante’s Purgatorio, it is located closer to God in Heaven than the Earthly Paradise. The proximity of Purgatory to Heaven in the Quadriregio is particularly unusual, given that, as we have seen, Purgatory was often more closely associated with Hell in previous theological, artistic and visionary traditions. By contrast, Frezzi’s location of Purgatory within the realm of Speranza explicitly links purgation to this virtue:
In quella spera su sta il purgatoro, parte el regno mio: lí sta la Spene, e piú lassú che altrove io dimoro. (IV. 18. 77-87)
This association with hope allows the realm to be characterised by singing, prayer and joyful suffering, as in Purgatorio, and some souls are even shown finishing purgation and being taken to Paradise by angels. By representing Purgatory as a subsection of the Regno delle Virtù, Frezzi develops Dante’s heavenly conception of Purgatory even further as he connects purgation with virtue and not sin. Before reaching Purgatory in the Regno delle Virtù, the protagonist, a young Frezzi, begins his journey in the Regno di Amore under the reign of Cupid and Venus. In this realm, surrounded by characters from classical mythology, Frezzi falls in love with various different nymphs as he is shot repeatedly by Cupid’s arrow. This first book of the poem, consisting of eighteen capitoli, details how Frezzi went astray, desiring carnal love above all else. Here, Frezzi must leave love and lust behind in order to pursue God. He is advised to leave Cupid and instead follow Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom, to her heavenly realm. While this seems to present a binary choice between carnal love, which must be rejected, and divine love, which must be pursued, in Dante’s Commedia Dante-pilgrim’s path is very different, as his desire for God is activated through his desire for Beatrice.53 Rather than the binary choice which results in a complete rejection of lust in the Quadriregio, therefore, Dante accords more value to his earthly love for Beatrice, which is redeemed in the Commedia.
52 Federico Frezzi, Il Quadriregio, ed. by Enrico Filippini (Bari: Gius. Laterza & Figli, 1914), IV. 18. 85, p. 364. All subsequent quotations from Federico Frezzi’s Quadriregio are taken from this volume. 53 The incompatibility of earthly and divine love was also a common trope in the thirteenth-century lyric tradition, see Tristan Kay, ‘Vernacular Literature and Culture’, in The Cambridge Companion to Dante’s ‘Commedia’, ed. by Zygmunt G. Barański and Simon Gilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), pp. 140-57 (pp. 144-45, p. 156).
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With Minerva as his guide, Frezzi begins his journey through the afterlife in the infernal Regno di Satanasso, which is divided into nineteen capitoli. They descend into Hell, passing through Limbo, and then undergo a ‘rebirth’ when Frezzi enters a dark tunnel from which he emerges naked to be clothed by Poverty. Frezzi and Minerva have now reached Earth, where they proceed to meet Charon who initially refuses to take them on his boat over the Acheron river, as in Inferno. They also pass through the river Styx, the City of Dis, the Temple of Pluto and many mountainous areas, where they see many gruesome punishments, culminating with a vision of Satan who keeps trying, and failing, to reach God. The fifteen capitoli of the third book depict the Regno dei Vizi, which, although located in the afterlife, appears to be a continuation of the journey through the previous realm, meaning that it is still infernal. However, the Regno dei Vizi adopts the structure of Dante’s Purgatorio, as Frezzi and Minerva climb a mountain with ascending terraces where each of the Seven Deadly Sins are punished, although they do not appear in the same order as in Purgatorio.54 The geography of Dante’s Purgatory is therefore infernalized here. Moreover, the punishments, although different to those in Purgatorio, appear to correspond to each sin. The final book of the Quadriregio is the longest of the poem, containing twenty-two capitoli. It describes the Regno delle Virtù, which is again divided into seven realms, only here they represent the cardinal and theological virtues. Each of these realms are represented by large, fortified castles made from different materials. The book begins with the Earthly Paradise and, as this follows on from the mountain where the Seven Deadly Sins are punished in the Regno dei Vizi, Frezzi appears to follow Dante’s structure of the afterlife here. In the Earthly Paradise, Frezzi says goodbye to Minerva as his guide and she is replaced by Enoch and Elijah. Frezzi will change between numerous allegorical and biblical figures who act as his guide in this realm.55 Frezzi progresses through the realms of the four cardinal virtues, Temperanza, Fortezza, Prudenza and Giustizia, which are all situated on the Earth. The realm of Fede is situated in an elevated place on Earth, immersed in the ether, and it acts as a link between the Earth and the supernatural, as well as between the cardinal and theological virtues. The realm of
54 In Purgatorio, the Seven Deadly Sins appear in the following order: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony, Lust. In Il Quadriregio the order is slightly different: Pride, Envy, Avarice, Sloth, Anger, Gluttony, and Lust. 55 As well as Enoch and Elijah in the Earthly Paradise, Frezzi is guided by the allegorical figures of each virtue he meets, and St. Paul also acts as Frezzi’s guide in the realm of Fede.
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Speranza, where Purgatory is located, and the realm of Carità, where Frezzi finally sees God, are both situated in the heavens. While the subdivision of the Quadriregio that I follow above, where the third book contains fifteen capitoli and the fourth book contains twenty-two capitoli, is found in eight manuscripts and all the printed editions, there are around ten manuscripts that instead include seventeen capitoli in the third book and twenty capitoli in the fourth.56 This disparity is likely to have arisen from the potentially controversial position of the Earthly Paradise. While some copyists may have thought it inappropriate for the Earthly Paradise to be separate from Paradise proper in the Regno delle Virtù, and so placed it in the fourth book, others may have included the Earthly Paradise in the third book as Frezzi’s Regno dei Vizi has a very similar structure to Mount Purgatory in Dante’s Purgatorio, where the Earthly Paradise is situated at the top of the mountain.57 The co- existence of two different subdivisions of Frezzi’s poem in the manuscript tradition suggests a level of uncertainty concerning the structure of the afterlife at this time, whilst also hinting at the significant influence of Dante’s Purgatorio for the subdivision of the Quadriregio.
1. Prayer The prayers of souls in Purgatory The thematic similarities between the Quadriregio and Dante’s Purgatorio are particularly evident in Frezzi’s representation of prayer. Indeed, Frezzi’s approach to prayer in the Regno delle Virtù, and the consequent association between the living and the dead in Purgatory, closely assimilates the doctrine of his realm with that of Dante’s middle realm. While previous studies of Frezzi’s intertextuality have focused upon the wider structural, thematic and linguistic echoes of Dante in the Quadriregio, they have not considered the specific thematic influence of Purgatorio for Frezzi’s representation of prayer. By the time Frezzi is writing, the effectiveness of praying for the dead was well- established in the doctrine of the Catholic Church, as it had first been affirmed in the Second Council of Lyons in 1274. The Profession of Faith made at this council in the name of the Emperor Michael VIII stated:
The souls of such as, truly penitent, shall die in charity before they have satisfied by worthy fruits of penance for their faults of commission and omission are purified after
56 Rotondi, p. 70; and Scomparin, p. 24, p. 51, p. 56. 57 Scomparin, p. 24.
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death by purifying pains, and the suffrages of the living faithful, that is the sacrifices of Masses, prayers, almsgiving and other works of piety, avail to lighten penalties of this sort.58
The ambiguous wording of the statement, whereby prayers were simply seen to ‘lighten penalties’ for those in Purgatory, left considerable scope for individual interpretation of how this might occur. Moreover, although this Profession of Faith clearly stated that ‘the suffrages of the living faithful’ could help souls undergoing purgation, it did not provide any doctrinal rules about whether the souls in Purgatory could pray themselves. By contrast, the theologian Thomas Aquinas recognised the necessity of prayers for the dead but clearly stated in his Summa Theologiae that those in Purgatory do not pray themselves: ‘non sunt in statu orandi, sed magis ut oretur pro eis’.59 Despite this, Dante depicts souls who pray in his Purgatory. On the terrace of Pride, for example, the souls recite Dante’s own rendition of the Lord’s Prayer: ‘“O Padre nostro, che ne’ cieli stai’ (Purg., XI. 1). Although this unorthodoxy was only hinted at in the commentaries in chapter one, when Alessandro Vellutello and Francesco Buti both questioned why souls in Purgatory would pray at all, Matthew Treherne has emphasised that Dante’s inclusion of prayer in Purgatory was extremely innovative, as it contradicted the teachings of theologians such as Aquinas and was not supported by the doctrinal statements of the Second Council of Lyons.60 Previously, the lack of clarity regarding the location, structure and purpose of Purgatory in Church doctrine has provided a potential rationale for the diversity in the representations of Purgatory we have examined. However, in the case of prayer for the dead, the teachings of Aquinas were unequivocal. Given that Frezzi was a Dominican friar like Aquinas, it is therefore even more surprising that he decides to include souls praying in his Purgatory, as he appears to adopt Dante’s unconventional doctrine of prayer rather than the teachings of a theologian from his own Order.61 It is thus of considerable interest that we see prayer play an important role in Frezzi’s Purgatory.
58 This is taken from a translation by Joseph Gill of The Decree of Union Laetentur Caeli, 6 July 1439. See Gill, p. 120. The original Latin version is found on p. 414. 59 See S. Thomae Aquinatis Summa Theologiae, ed. by Pietro Caramello, 3 vols (Turin: Marietti, 1952-66), II, 397. See also Matthew Treherne, ‘Art and Nature put to Scorn: On the Sacramental in Purgatorio’, in Nature and Art in Dante, ed. by Daragh O’Connell and Jennifer Petrie (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2013), pp. 187-210 (p. 188). 60 Treherne, p. 188. See Francesco da Buti, commentary on Purgatorio XI. 22-36; and Alessandro Vellutello, commentary on Purgatorio, XI. 22-24. 61 Moreover, some of the earliest religious objections to the Commedia came from the Dominican Order in Florence, making Frezzi's use of Dante in this context even more shocking, see Gilson, Dante and Renaissance Florence, p. 48.
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As well as singing hymns and psalms, the souls in Frezzi’s Purgatory are seen praying to the Virgin to end their suffering: ‘Ave, Maria di grazia piena’ cantavan molti dentro della fiamma, ‘Dominus tecum, o stella serena. Soccorri tosto, o dolce nostra mamma, ed a pietá ver’ noi il Signor piega per quello amor, che te di lui infiamma. Quando, o Regina, la tua voce priega, nel cospetto di Dio è tanto accetta, che nulla a tua domanda mai si niega. O donna sopra ogni altra benedetta, fa’ ch’a noi venga il benedetto Frutto, che con tanto disio da noi s’aspetta’ (IV. 19. 61-72)
While the souls appear to request the intercession of the Virgin to aid their own situation here, ‘Soccorri tosto, o dolce nostra mamma’ (IV. 19. 64), Dante makes clear that the souls in Purgatorio do not pray for themselves, ‘ché non bisogna, | ma per color che dietro a noi restaro’ (Purg., XI. 22-24). Thus, while Dante’s inclusion of prayer in Purgatory helps to demonstrate the souls’ humility, as they desire good for those on Earth, in the Quadriregio the purpose of the souls’ prayer appears instead to be directed at a personal advancement towards God. In Frezzi’s purgatorial realm, prayer is therefore used to show the souls desire for future transformation, rather than demonstrating how purgation has already changed them for the better, as is shown in Dante’s Purgatorio.
The function of prayers for the dead i. The efficacy of prayer The souls’ progression to Paradise through Frezzi’s transitional and transformative realm of Purgatory is also aided by the prayers of the living. As in Purgatorio, prayers for the dead in the Quadriregio are shown to help shorten the time spent by souls in Purgatory:
Cosí li vivi sobvengono a’ morti con satisfar per lor el pentir lento, ché ’l tempo d’ire al cielo a lor s’accorti. (IV. 18. 145-47)
Praying for the dead is also presented as an act that recognises the unity of the body of Christ, which crosses the boundaries between life and death. Those undergoing purgation are presented as ‘uniti | in grazia con noi’ (IV. 18. 166-67), thereby emphasising that they are still connected to their earthly communities because, like the living, they have still not yet reached Paradise: ‘a lor patria ancor non son saliti’ (IV. 18. 168). For Frezzi, this
222 perceived unity signifies that the Pope has the same authority to help those in Purgatory on their journey to Christ as he does for those on Earth:
il papa, ch’esti beni ha ’n sua balia, del ben universal della sua greggia ne può far parte a lor e cortesia. (IV. 18. 169-71)
While the Pope has the power to help any soul progress through Purgatory, family members can offer prayers to shorten the purgation of their loved ones: Rispose a questo: ‘Il membro, ch’è coniunto, da suoi coniunti membri è sobvenuto, quando si duole o quando egli è trapunto’ (IV. 18. 133-35)
The important role of the family is also evident in Dante’s Purgatorio, where, for example, the late-repentant soul Forese Donati is shown to have progressed very quickly through Purgatory thanks to the prayers of his wife Nella: ‘Con suoi prieghi devoti e con sospiri | tratto m’ha de la costa ove s’aspetta, | e liberato m’ha de li altri giri’ (Purg., XXIII. 88-90). It is not only prayers offered by spiritual or familial authorities that are acceptable, however, as prayers for the dead are shown to be effective even when the person praying is a sinner: E, quando alcuno, ch’è in pecca’ mortale, prega per quel ch’è ’n caritá unito, a quello, per cui prega, giova vale; ché non per sé da Dio è esaudito, ma per colui che prega e satisface, che giá è eletto all’eterno convito; (IV. 20. 49-54)
In this case, the prayer functions legitimately because the sinner does not pray for himself but for a soul who has already been placed in Purgatory. The personal circumstances of the living therefore do not change the efficacy of a prayer for the dead, especially since there is no doubt concerning the worthiness of penitent souls who have already been chosen to gain salvation. Given the explicit ties between the living and the dead, Frezzi unequivocally promotes the benefits of praying for those in Purgatory: ‘Adunque è santo, pio, salubre e buono | pregar pe’ morti’ (IV. 18. 151-52). Frezzi therefore emulates the close, beneficial relationship between the living and the dead that is portrayed in Dante’s Purgatorio. ii. Requests for prayers
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The importance of a relationship that crosses the boundaries between the Earth and the afterlife is reiterated by the souls that Frezzi meets in Purgatory. After the initial shock of realising that Frezzi ‘ha viva persona’ (IV. 19. 83) as he passes through this sphere, just as in Purgatorio where the souls ‘maravigliando diventaro smorte’ (Purg., II. 69) when they realise that Dante pilgrim is ‘ancor vivo’ (Purg., II. 68), a crowd of penitent souls begs Frezzi to take news of them back to Earth:
Se tu non hai gustata ancor la morte, dinne se ancor al mondo tornerai, acciò che lá di noi novella porte. (IV. 19. 94-96) 62
This demonstrates a similar connection between the earthly and purgatorial realms as that found in Purgatorio, as well as a desire on the part of the souls to end their purgation and be united with God as quickly as possible.63 This desire to complete purgation quickly is also underlined by individual souls. The soul Toso Benigno asks Frezzi to remind his brother, who has not done anything for him since he died, to complete a pilgrimage to Rome in his name so that his time in Purgatory may be lessened:
Cosí un mio compagno io lassa’ erede: e’ di quel ch’io volea, niente fece, sí come spesso fa chiunque succede. Però ti prego, se tornar ti lece, che dichi al fratel mio che satisfaccia e che per me vada a Roma in mia vece. (IV. 20. 85-90)
This request for action on the part of a living family member who appears to have forgotten their relative in Purgatory is also evident in Purgatorio when Manfred asks
Dante pilgrim to remind his daughter, ‘la mia buona Costanza’ (Purg., III. 143), of his fate, although her lack of action in this case appears to have been due to ignorance of his salvation. Each of these texts therefore link the earthly and purgatorial realms closely
62 The fact that the souls are also shocked that Frezzi has all his limbs in the fire, ‘Poi un gridò: -Oh! venite a vedere | un, che ’n su sale ed ha viva persona: | e’ dentr’al foco ha le sue membra intiere’ (IV. 19. 82-84), could suggest that each soul is submerged in the flames to a different amount, as was commonly seen in the images we examined in chapter two. This scene is also reminiscent of Dante’s arrival in Purgatorio where, similarly to the crowd which gathered around Dante, ‘come a messagger che porta ulivo | tragge la gente per udir novelle’ (Purg., II. 70-71), so too the crowd surrounds Frezzi, ‘Come a messaggio, c’ha novella bona, | corre la gente’ (IV. 19. 85-86), and both groups of souls are described as being in Purgatory in order to ‘farsi belli’ (IV. 19. 89) or ‘farsi belle’ (Purg., II. 75). These linguistic similarities serve to further emphasise how Frezzi’s approach to the relationship between the living and the dead imitates that found in Dante’s Purgatorio. 63 For examples of prayer shortening purgation in Purgatorio, see, amongst others, Purg., III. 143-45; Purg., V. 70-72; Purg., VI. 26-27; and Purg., XXIII. 88-90.
224 together in a union which often urges action on the part of the reader, encouraging him or her to pray for relatives who may be in Purgatory. iii. The late-repentant This need for prayer is most urgent amongst the late-repentant souls in Purgatory. Frezzi meets one of them, Sabello the Roman, who explains that it is only in extremely rare cases, such as those of St Peter or St Matthew, that souls repent on Earth and are then able to go straight to Heaven (IV. 19. 136-44). While in chapter one we saw that Dante’s specific punishment lengths for those in Purgatory were rejected as ‘licenzia poetica’ by commentators such as Jacopo della Lana, here Frezzi appears to emulate this Dantean concept.64 Sabello explains that in his case:
E cosí ’l mio pentir non fu perfetto, ch’io ’l tardai e del mal far m’accorse, quand’era per morir su nel mio letto. (IV. 19. 133-45)
His repentance, like that of Manfred in Purgatorio, occurred on his deathbed, and so was both late and imperfect, meaning that he must stay much longer in Purgatory in order to complete the necessary satisfaction for his sins. His need for masses and prayers to shorten his purgation is thus very great and he likens it to the need of the earthly body for food:
Di quelle messe e preci ha qui ognuno la parte sua, come dá ’l corpo il cibo a’ membri suoi, e piú al piú digiuno. (IV. 19. 163-65)
By presenting prayers as essential for survival, Frezzi demonstrates the penitent souls’ urgent need for prayer to help them undergo purgation, a necessity that is repeated throughout Dante’s Purgatorio and which is especially pertinent to those destined to spend much longer in Purgatory. Although prayer as intercession is fundamentally important in the Quadriregio and Purgatorio, it is not necessarily widespread across all literary accounts dealing with Purgatory in this period. Matteo Palmieri’s poem, the Città di vita (c. 1466), which similarly narrates the journey of the protagonist through the afterlife, presents a purgatorial realm where prayer is afforded a very different purpose.65 The souls located in
64 See Jacopo della Lana, commentary on Purgatorio III. 136-39. 65 As we saw in chapter three, the Città di vita, like the Commedia, is divided into three books, describing Palmieri’s descent from the Elysian Fields, a further descent into Hell and then a final ascent back up to Heaven. In the third book, Palmieri ascends the Mount of Virtues, which is divided into three sections
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the section of Palmieri’s Mount of Virtues dedicated to purgatorial virtues do not request prayers to shorten their purgation. Palmieri therefore does not consider the role of prayer for the dead in his poem and instead simply prays to the Muses to help him with his own ascent up the Mount of Virtues: ‘Cosi preghando con sybilla andava | com ella volle che al preghar mi mosse | dicendo piu non sal chi non si sprava’.66 Although prayer is still presented as necessary for progression through Purgatory here, there is less urgency for the souls themselves to complete the journey than is seen in Purgatorio and the Quadriregio. Unlike Palmieri, then, both Dante and Frezzi focus on the important relationship between the living and the dead, demonstrating that while the souls in Purgatory are getting ready to enter Paradise, they still require help from the community of believers that they are connected to on Earth. The purpose of prayer in Purgatory is thus very similar in both Dante’s Commedia and Frezzi’s Quadriregio. In contrast to Palmieri, both Dante and Frezzi emphasise the power of prayer for the dead in shortening the purgation of penitent souls, which had been accepted by the Catholic Church since the Second Council of Lyons in 1274. Similarly, both authors highlight the beneficial relationship between the living and the dead, focusing on the vital role of family members in helping their relatives progress through Purgatory. While Frezzi includes one of Dante’s doctrinal innovations in his realm, namely that the souls themselves pray in Purgatory, he reworks this idea. The souls in the Quadriregio do not pray for those on Earth, as in Purgatorio, but rather for themselves, thereby excluding the sense of reciprocity found in this relationship in Purgatorio. Thus, although Frezzi imitates Dante’s doctrine of prayer in Purgatory more closely than Palmieri, he also introduces his own doctrinal elements and so does not copy Dante slavishly.
2. Landscape While the concept of prayer in the Quadriregio demonstrates many close thematic parallels with the doctrine of Dante’s Purgatorio, Frezzi’s topography of the afterlife relating, in ascending order, to civic virtues, purgatorial virtues, and ideal virtues. Each of these is then divided into four sections pertaining to the four cardinal virtues: prudence, temperance, fortitude and justice. At the top of mountain, Palmieri experiences Heaven and a vision of God which concludes the poem. 66 Matteo Palmieri, Libro del poema chiamato ‘Città di vita’, composto da Matteo Palmieri Florentino, transcribed from the Laurentian MS XL 53 and compared with the Magliabechiano II ii 41, in Smith College Studies in Modern Languages, ed. by Margaret Rooke, 2 vols (Northampton, MA: Smith College, 1926-28), II (1927-28), (III. 15. 7), 161. All subsequent quotations from Matteo Palmieri’s Città di vita are taken from this volume.
226 diverges significantly from that of the Commedia. In order to gain a more complete picture of the structural influence of Dante’s Purgatorio in the Quadriregio, I will consider the sections of the Quadriregio that deal explicitly with Purgatory, as well as examining certain geographical aspects of the Regno dei Vizi and the Regno delle Virtù that demonstrate Frezzi’s specific engagement with Purgatorio. As we shall see, Dante’s distinct topographical layout for the afterlife clearly impacted Frezzi’s Quadriregio, but there are some notable differences. In the fourth book of his poem, Frezzi provides us with a useful overview of his journey through the Regno di Amore, the Regno di Satanasso, which includes Limbo, the Regno dei Vizi and the Regno delle Virtù, where both the Earthly Paradise and Purgatory will be found:
Ed io a lei: ‘Minerva mi soccorse, quando per mio errore era ito al fondo , onde a cavarmi la sua man mi porse. Mostrato m’ha lo inferno, il limbo e ’l mondo e dellì vizi li reami crudi; poi mi condusse nel giardin giocondo, ove veduto ho io le tre vertudi; e tutte insieme con festa e diletto menato m’han tra nobili tripudi’. (IV. 11. 13-21)67
Despite the seemingly clear topography of the afterlife that is laid out here, Frezzi does not provide defined places for the otherworldly realms in the Quadriregio, as is the case in the Commedia.68 This uncertainty is displayed when, for example, the protagonist Frezzi asks the soul Toso Benigno about the location of Purgatory:
Io lessi giá che sta in altro loco il purgatoro e ch’è parte d’inferno; ed ora el veggio qui tra questo foco. (IV. 20. 94-96)
Frezzi had apparently read that Purgatory was part of Hell and yet here it is located in the fiery realm of Speranza close to Paradise. The rejection of Purgatory’s previous infernal connotations mirrors Dante’s more hopeful conception of the realm. By questioning the location of Purgatory, however, Frezzi contradicts Dante’s placement of Mount Purgatory at the antipodes of Jerusalem, thereby suggesting that it continued to be a debated topic. As we have seen, this debate concerning Purgatory’s location was also present in commentaries to the Commedia, such as that of the Anonimo Fiorentino, where it is noted that theologians such as St. Augustine and Isidore of Seville did not know where
67 On this passage see also Rotondi, p. 89. 68 Laureti, pp. 32-33.
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Purgatory was situated.69 Frezzi’s exchange with Toso suggests that the locations of both Hell and Paradise are also fluid:
E egli a me: ‘Colui, che ’n sempiterno mai non si muta ed ogni cosa move e tutto l’universo ha ’n suo governo. Ha qui il purgatoro ed anco altrove, e nell’inferno puote dar gran festa e fare il paradiso in ogni dove’ (IV. 20. 97-102)
Frezzi the poet thereby offers a more abstract conception of the afterlife than the concrete reality usually attributed to it in medieval thought, suggesting that these realms are not fixed in position but can exist anywhere or in numerous places at the same time according to the will of God.70 This ambiguity, which was also recognised in the commentaries, contrasts with Dante’s clear geographical positioning of the first two realms in his Commedia. The Quadriregio therefore does not provide as precise an account of the geographical location and layout of the different areas of the afterlife as that found in Dante’s Purgatorio.
Purgatory as a transitional space In the Quadriregio, Frezzi does not associate Purgatory with the infernal, as seen in medieval visionary accounts, and the realm is instead explicitly oriented towards the divine, as in Dante’s Purgatorio. Purgatory is one of the final realms that Frezzi passes through before reaching Paradise proper, where he experiences a vision of God. Purgatory forms a subsection of the realm of Speranza in the Regno delle Virtù and, in order to reach it, Frezzi and St Paul, who is now his guide, must ascend a path: D’un porfido polito, terso e netto una via mi mostrò poi ’nsú distesa, girante intorno al tempio insin al tetto. ‘Per questa è la salita ed è la scesa di dea Speranza; e chi vuol veder lei, convien che saglia sopra questa chiesa’ (IV. 17. 37-42)
This steep, spiralling path evokes the mountainous ascent of the previous realm and of Dante’s Purgatorio, but here it is located in a heavenly realm. It is made clear that this mountain is much higher than that described in the Regno dei Vizi, ‘E, perché ogni monte
è assai piu basso, | che non è ’l monte, ove quel tempio è sito’ (IV. 17. 46-47), and this
69 See the Anonimo Fiorentino, commentary on Purgatorio I. Nota. 70 Laureti, p. 33.
228 separation is further underlined when St Paul explains: ‘Or sei uscito | fuor del terrestre mondo’ (IV. 17. 49-50). When he reaches the top of the path Frezzi is able to see the world below him:
Per l’altezza del tempio e poi del monte il mondo parve a me un piccol loco, e ’l mare intorno quasi parvo fonte. (IV. 17. 61-63)
The description of the world as ‘un piccol loco’ (IV. 17. 62) not only emphasises the great distance that Frezzi has travelled to get here, but also the relative insignificance of worldly desires now that he is in the heavenly realms. This complete separation from the Earth contrasts greatly with Dante’s Purgatorio, which is directly connected to Earth via the ‘pre-ante-purgatory’ at Ostia. Unlike the physical attributes of Dante’s Purgatorio, which attach his realm both to the Earth and to the Earthly Paradise, the topographical boundaries of Frezzi’s Purgatory are less coherent than Purgatorio. In the Quadriregio, both the realm of Speranza and the sphere of Purgatory within it are simply characterised by fire, meaning that Purgatory has no clearly defined limits and there is no obvious entrance or exit. This is reminiscent of the fresco at Paganico that we examined in chapter two, as well as the altarpieces by Lorenzo di Niccolò and Giovanni di Paolo in chapter three, which similarly portray Purgatory as a fiery realm with ill-defined boundaries. Frezzi is only alerted to the presence of a purgatorial sphere when he hears voices above him:
ed io alzai la testa e tenni mente, perché lassu udia cosa novella. Io udii voci ’n quella spera ardente del foco, il qual appresso soprastava, e sospir gravi d’una afflitta gente. Ed ella a me : ‘Lassú si purga e lava il satisfar non fatto, e li è ’l ristoro del tepido, commesso in vita prava. In quella spera su sta il purgatoro, parte el regno mio: lí sta la Spene, e piú lassú che altrove io dimoro’ (IV. 18. 77-87)
The fact that Speranza claims that ‘purgatoro’ (IV. 18. 85) is ‘parte el regno mio’ (IV. 18. 86) means that it does not occupy a realm of its own, as in Dante’s Purgatorio, and so Dante’s tripartite division of the afterlife is not imitated here. Instead, Frezzi’s Purgatory acts as a link between the realm of Speranza and the realm of Carità, from which Frezzi
229 moves almost immediately into the cielo della Luna and then on through the heavens until he reaches God. This transition into Paradise is, however, quite ambiguous:
Non so in qual modo, né per qual viaggio, mi trova’ intrato nel ciel della luna, assai ’n men tempo che detto non l’aggio. (IV. 20. 133-35)
The use of ‘Non so’ (IV. 20. 133) emphasises that Frezzi is unaware of how he has managed to enter this sphere of Heaven and his confusion thwarts any attempt to ascertain a clear physical connection between Purgatory and Paradise. Dante pilgrim is similarly confused by his transition from Purgatory into Paradise, as Beatrice has to explain, ‘Tu non se’ in terra, sì come tu credi’ (Par., I. 91). Although neither text presents a tangible connection between the two realms, Frezzi’s purgatorial sphere is plainly integrated within a heavenly realm and is located even closer to Paradise proper than Dante’s Purgatorio. This shift towards a more heavenly location for Purgatory is also found in Palmieri’s Città di vita (c. 1466). In the third book of his poem Palmieri ascends the Mount of Virtues, passing through sections dedicated to civic virtues, purgatorial virtues, and ideal virtues, which are each sub-divided according to the four cardinal virtues, before reaching Heaven at the top of the mountain.71 The layout of the mountain in the Città di vita demonstrates that, like Frezzi, Palmieri does not follow the tertiary structure of the Commedia, which affords equal space to Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. By contrast, in the Città di vita Purgatory does not have a clearly defined realm of its own, as it forms the central section of the Mount of Virtues.72 Both Frezzi and Palmieri therefore include Purgatory as a subsection of a heavenly realm dedicated to virtue. However, unlike the
Quadriregio which labels the sphere as ‘purgatoro’ (IV. 18. 85), in the Città di vita Purgatory is not named. Palmieri instead uses the terms ‘purgar’ and ‘le virtu purgatorie’
(III. 15), thereby increasing the ambiguity regarding its physical topography. This also suggests that Purgatory has less independence as a realm than it does in the Quadriregio. Therefore, although Frezzi and Palmieri both promote a heavenly conception of Purgatory, similar to Dante’s Purgatorio, they do not reproduce Dante’s purgatorial topography for their own realms of purgation. They instead position Purgatory much
71 George M. Carpetto, The Humanism of Matteo Palmieri (Rome: Bulzoni editore, 1984), pp. 127-29. 72 While the name Paradiso is not adopted in either poem, Palmieri’s use of the name Mount of Virtues evokes Frezzi’s Regno delle Virtù, and both authors also employ similar terminology when structuring their heavenly realm according to the four cardinal virtues.
230 closer to Paradise than Dante, including it as a subsection of Heaven rather than as its own distinctive realm.
An infernalized Dantean mountain Although the geography of Purgatorio and its prominence in the overall structure of the Commedia is not reproduced by Frezzi for his own purgatorial sphere, the Regno dei Vizi, described in the third book of the Quadriregio, is located on a mountain which seems to have been inspired by Dante’s Mount Purgatory:
Poi inver’ la parte, ove lo sol s’accolta, gira altrettanto a modo che le scale si fan nel campanile alcuna volta; poi verso il corno anche altrettanto sale. Cosi per sette giri insu si monta al regno glorioso ed immortale. Su questa via quando Palla fu gionta, mostrò a me quant’ella insu sublima, piú bella assai che qui ’l dir non racconta. E questa via, che noi salimmo in prima, è stretta ed erta e quanto piú su viene, tanto è piu larga e piana inver’ la cima. (III. 2. 4-15)
Despite uncertainty regarding the precise location of these otherworldly realms in relation to each other and the physical world, this realm appears to be organised according to a clear topographical structure. There are seven terraces encircling the mountain, which ascend towards Paradise.73 Like Purgatorio, each of these terraces displays the punishment of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, although they appear in a slightly different order to that found in Purgatorio: Pride, Envy, Avarice, Sloth, Anger, Gluttony and Lust.74 Moreover, as we shall see in the upcoming section on transformation, the punishments, although different to those in Purgatorio, appear to be designed to counter particular sins. However, by using the layout of Dante’s mountain with the Seven Deadly Sins to structure the Regno dei Vizi rather than Purgatory, Frezzi removes Dante’s mountain from its original purgatorial setting. Thus, in contrast to the ambiguity we saw in artworks such as Maso di Banco’s fresco and Francesco Botticini’s altarpiece, which
73 Laureti has suggested that this comparison of the mountain terraces to ‘le scale’ may have influenced the Pozzo di San Patrizio in Orvieto, which has two spiral staircases which overlap in a double helix (p. 277). 74 For the entrances to each terrace see, the ‘via’ of Pride (III. 2. 16-21, 52-54), the ‘piaggia’ of Envy (III. 4. 7-12), the ‘spiaggia’ of Avarice (III. 6. 70-72), the ‘piaggia’ of Sloth (III. 9. 1-3), the ‘strada’ of Anger (III. 10. 1), the ‘balzo’ of Gluttony (III. 12. 43-45), and the ‘piaggia’ of Lust (III. 14. 1-6).
231 both include a mountain that may or may not be purgatorial, Frezzi’s mountain is clearly defined as infernal. This initial description of the Regno dei Vizi demonstrates a clear focus upon the
‘regno glorioso ed immortale’ (III. 2. 9) that awaits the traveller. The path that Frezzi must take up the mountain is very narrow and steep initially, but nearer the top it levels out and becomes wider. While this may suggest a reward for the souls persevering towards the summit, the possibility for progression up the mountain and beyond only applies to the protagonist and his guide in the Regno dei Vizi. Indeed, the prideful, who are the first souls that Frezzi meets in this realm, are shown running down the mountain:
Alquanti insù con noi venían per via; ma eran pochi rispetto agli assai d’un’altra gente, che alla ’ngiù venía. (III. 2. 19-21)
This suggests that the souls in this realm are not united in a desire to ascend the mountain to reach Paradise. The importance of focusing on the heavenly destination rather than the difficulty of the journey through the afterlife is thus more likely to apply to Frezzi himself, rather than the damned souls:
E, se il cammino è duro o faticoso, pensa del fine e pensa qual sia il frutto fra te medesmo saggio e virtuoso. (II. 2. 139-41)
This echoes the passage in Purgatorio X where Dante endeavours to reassure the reader that they should not be discouraged by the punishment he describes on the terraces of Mount Purgatory:
Non attender la forma del martìre: pensa la succession; pensa ch’al peggio oltre la gran sentenza non può ire. (Purg., X. 109-11)
Frezzi therefore appears to re-purpose this Dantean language, which focuses on the finite nature of purgation and the universal hope it offers, and places it instead within an infernal context, underlining the hope required to face the challenges of his personal journey, where he aims to gain a greater understanding of the afterlife. Thus, while the geography of this realm is clearly inspired by Purgatorio, the punishment of the souls does not inspire hope or facilitate their progression up the mountain. Despite the clear imitation of Dante’s purgatorial topography, the Regno dei Vizi instead appears to represent a continuation of the Regno di Satanasso in the second book
232 of the Quadriregio. A large part of the Regno di Satanasso represents Earth, where Satan now reigns, ‘è Satanasso ed ha ’l governo | del mortal mondo e delli regni vostri’ (II. 1. 113-14), and so the Regno dei Vizi is often considered to represent Satan’s otherworldly realm.75 As Laureti has shown, there are several moments in the text where the Regno dei Vizi is described as an infernal realm: Frezzi the protagonist states, ‘se mai di questo inferno quaggiù esco’ (III. 11. 90), and the lustful soul Sardanapallo later claims ‘e qui ogni dolor dura in eterno’ (III. 15. 104).76 The explicit description of this mountain as an
‘inferno’ (III. 11. 90) characterised by eternal pain demonstrates that Dante’s geography of Purgatory is here infernalized. Frezzi’s placement of Dante’s purgatorial mountain within an infernal setting thus evidences how his Dantean imitation is considerably decontextualised.
The Earthly Paradise This distinction between the Regno dei Vizi and Dante’s Purgatorio is particularly emphasised by the location of Frezzi’s Earthly Paradise. As we have seen, the manuscript tradition presents two possible subdivisions of the third and fourth books of the Quadriregio, with ten manuscripts including the Earthly Paradise in the Regno dei Vizi, following the structure of Dante’s Purgatorio, and eight manuscripts placing it in the Regno delle Virtù.77 Given the explicitly infernal nature of the Regno dei Vizi, it is perhaps surprising that so many manuscripts included the Earthly Paradise as part of this mountain realm. This shows that the structure of Dante’s Purgatorio, which situated the Earthly Paradise at the top of a mountain, was clearly influential for copyists. However, despite the topographical similarities between the Regno dei Vizi and Dante’s Mount Purgatory, every printed edition of the Quadriregio chose to locate the Earthly Paradise within the Regno delle Virtù. By rejecting Dante’s geographical location of the Earthly Paradise at the top of a mountain, these editions reinforce the infernal nature of Frezzi’s Regno dei Vizi as it is physically separated from the divine. Frezzi further emphasises that the Regno dei Vizi should not be confused with Dante’s representation of Purgatory when he claims:
Lasciata addietro avea la prava terra e delli vizi la maligna schiera,
75 See also Quadriregio II. 1. 11 and II. 1. 124-29. For critical literature on the worldly nature of the Regno di Satanasso, see Rotondi, p. 89; and Scomparin, p. 38, p. 74. 76 Laureti, p. 270. 77 Rotondi, p. 70; and Scomparin, p. 24, p. 51, p. 56.
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e trapassata avea tutta lor guerra. (IV. 1. 1-3)
Unlike Virgil’s description of Mount Purgatory as ‘il dilettoso monte | ch’è principio e cagion di tutta goia’ (Inf., I. 77-78), here Frezzi emphasises the evil nature of his mountain realm and the souls that inhabit it by describing the Regno dei Vizi as a ‘prava terra’. This Dantean phrase is found in both Inferno XVI and Paradiso IX, where it is used instead to describe the corruption of Florence and Italy respectively: ‘la terra prava | italica’ (Par., IX. 25-26).78 This Dantean language, explicitly associated with the depravity of the Italian peninsula on Earth, is therefore decontextualized in Frezzi’s poem, where it refers to an infernal otherworldly realm. Frezzi goes on to contrast the
‘guerra’ (IV. 1. 3) of the Regno dei Vizi with ‘l’aere sereno’ (IV. 1. 28) of the Earthly Paradise, demonstrating a definitive shift in location. The protagonist Frezzi reaches the Earthly Paradise by taking ‘quella via sí faticosa’
(IV. 1. 13), mirroring Dante pilgrim’s similarly arduous ascent of Mount Purgatory.79 The beauty of the Garden is described using traditional imagery of the Earthly Paradise, including ‘fiori’, ‘aere sereno’, ‘melodie’ and ‘dolci canti’ (IV. 1. 28-30). There are also angels present in this realm, in contrast to the demons and monsters that reigned previously: Da quel giardino er’io poco lontano, ch’io vidi un serafino in su la porta, ch’è posto lí da Dio per guardiano (IV. 1. 31-33)
Here there is a physical entrance to the Earthly Paradise, ‘la porta’ (IV. 1. 32), which must be crossed. In order to proceed any further, however, Frezzi must humble himself before the angel:
In terra mi prostrai da capo a piede, ed i vi in croce spasi le mie braccia come nel legno Quel che a noi si diede. (IV. 1. 46-48)
Frezzi lies prostrate, forming the sign of the cross on the floor and beseeching the angel to let him through. His actions demonstrate that a sign of humility is required in order to be allowed through, as was also the case, for example, for Dante pilgrim when entering Purgatory proper:
78 See also ‘“Sòstati tu ch’a l’abito ne sembri | essere alcun di nostra terra prava”’ (Inf., XVI. 8-9). 79 Dante repeatedly underlines the physical effort required to climb Mount Purgatory, for example: ‘la roccia sì erta, che ’ndarno vi fare le gambe pronte’ (Purg., III. 47-48); and ‘Noi salavam per entro ’l sasso rotto, | e d’ogne lato ne stringea lo stremo, | e piedi e man volea il suol di sotto’. (Purg., IV. 31-33). Frezzi’s use of ‘faticosa’ thus emulates this physical challenge.
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Divoto mi gittai a’ santi piedi; misericordia chiesi e ch’el m’aprisse, ma tre volte nel petto pria mi diedi. (Purg., IX. 109-11)
In both cases, the angels guarding the entrances are seen to be formidable. Frezzi’s angel holds a ‘coltel tanto feroce’ (57) while Dante’s angel is armed with a ‘spada nuda’ (Purg.,
IX. 82) and yet both are willing to allow the travellers to proceed once they have humbled themselves and prayed for mercy:
L’angel allora, al suon di questa voce, la porta aprío e diedene l’entrata, levando via il coltel tanto feroce. (IV. 1. 55-57)
As in Dante’s Purgatorio, humility is a fundamental requirement for entry into Frezzi’s Regno delle Virtù and it distinguishes this realm from the pride which dominated the Regno di Satanasso and the Regno dei Vizi. The Earthly Paradise, which acts as the entrance to the Regno delle Virtù, is thus both geographically and theologically separated from the mountain of the Regno dei Vizi. This shift is reinforced by Frezzi’s use of different guides in the Regno delle Virtù. Now that Frezzi is entering a realm centred upon Christian virtues, the pagan Minerva must be replaced by sacred, biblical figures who can better guide the protagonist through this holy domain. In the Earthly Paradise, Frezzi meets his new guides, Enoch and Elijah:
Enoc è questo primo, ed io Elia, quai Dio ne pose in questo loco santo. Delle vertù ti mostrerem la via. (IV. 1. 104-06)
This change presents similarities with Dante’s Commedia, when the pagan guide Virgil also leaves Dante in the Earthly Paradise: ‘e se’ venuto in parte | dov’ io per me più oltre non discerno’ (Purg., XXVII. 128-29). Virgil’s lack of Christian faith not only impedes him from entering the presence of the divine, but it also means that he is no longer able to carry out his required function as the pilgrim’s guide, as he does not possess sufficient theological knowledge. Dante is therefore guided through Paradiso by Beatrice and, finally, by St. Bernard. In both poems, then, Dante and Frezzi have different guides depending on the area of the afterlife that the protagonist is travelling through. Crucially, however, while the pagans Virgil and Minerva act as guides for their respective protagonists on a mountain structured according to the Seven Deadly Sins, Minerva is not considered an appropriate guide for Frezzi in the sphere of Purgatory, whereas Virgil is
235 accepted as a guide for Dante’s Purgatorio. The exclusion of a pagan guide from Purgatory suggests that Frezzi has a more heavenly conception of the realm than Dante. Alongside the geographical and spiritual characteristics of the Earthly Paradise, then, Frezzi’s exchange of a pagan guide for a Christian one in the Regno delle Virtù ultimately helps to assert the divine nature of this realm, and by extension the purgatorial sphere it contains, when compared to the Regno dei Vizi. Although acts of repentance and humility, which are central to Dante’s doctrine of Purgatory, characterise the Regno delle Virtù where Frezzi’s Purgatory is located, Frezzi does not imitate Dante’s precise geography and doctrine of Purgatory. As we have seen, he does not reproduce Dante’s tripartite division of the afterlife with an independent realm for Purgatory, instead choosing to situate his Purgatory within a heavenly realm. Moreover, he employs Dante’s geography of Purgatory as a model for his infernal Regno dei Vizi. Frezzi thus takes many Dantean ideas regarding Purgatory out of their original context and re-incorporates them into the Quadriregio in order to shape his own conception of the afterlife. Hence, aspects of the geography and theology of Dante’s Purgatory are both found in the Quadriregio but they are not combined.
3. Transformation Transformation of the souls i. The progression of souls While Frezzi’s Purgatory does not acquire the independent geography of Purgatorio, we shall see that the heavenly location of the sphere imbues it with a similarly hopeful purpose in the afterlife. In the Quadriregio, the poet Frezzi explicitly outlines the function of Purgatory and how it facilitates the progression of souls into Paradise: Basta che qui a te si manifesta che cosa è ’l purgatoro e che ’l fece anco prima Iustizia, ovver prima Maièsta, e che lí si ristora ciò che ha manco la penitenzia, e che nullo va al cielo, se prima non si purga e fassi bianco. (IV. 20. 103-108)
Purgation is here seen to be essential for entrance into Paradise. Those undergoing purgation are said to ‘fassi bianco’ (IV. 20. 108), and this imagery, as we saw in the previous chapter, was widespread in frescoes and altarpieces of this period. The colour white, which Dante associated with the theological virtue of faith, is thus once again associated with the final transformation of souls. Frezzi also elaborates on some of the
236 deeper theological questions surrounding purgation, including when purgation is necessary and the amount of time that should be spent in Purgatory:
Ma, quando è alcun, il qual non satìsfaccia integramente, il prete che l’assolve, da colpa e non da pena lo dislaccia. E però ’l peccator che a Dio si volve, se ’l convertirsi è tardo o freddo o poco, nel purgatòr la pena poi persolve. E tanto tempo sta in questo loco, quanto ha negletto, se non lo fa brieve il papa santo, offerta o iusto invoco. (IV. 18. 121-29)
According to Frezzi, if satisfaction is not completed on Earth, in which case souls will go straight to Heaven, then the believer must go to Purgatory. This is because, although the guilt of the believer will be absolved if they were repentant at the time of death, their punishment will not yet have been completed. The time spent in Purgatory will then be related to the amount of time the soul spent in sin on Earth. The time in Purgatory can, however, be shortened by the intervention of the Pope for example. Frezzi therefore underlines the spiritual purpose of Purgatory in great detail, which contrasts with the relatively ambiguous topography of the sphere in the Quadriregio. Frezzi, like Dante, shows souls finishing their purgation in his poem. While in Purgatorio the end of Statius’ purgation is signalled when Dante feels ‘tremar lo monte’
(Purg., XX. 128), Frezzi instead describes the moment when three souls who have been chosen by God to enter Paradise are collected from Purgatory by angels. Here Frezzi describes the arrival of the angels and the end of the first soul’s purgation:
E, poscia che silenzio fenno alquanto, agnoli vidi su dal ciel venire con allegrezza e festa e dolce canto. E, giunti quivi, un cominciò a dire: ‘D’este pene esci fuori, o Pier Farnese, ché Dio ha posto fine al tuo martíre.’ E quel, ch’egli chiamò, ratto s’accese di luce chiara e tanto benedecta, che dal fuoco e da incendio lo difese. E cominciò a cantar: ‘O quam dilecta tabernacula tua, o Dio Signore! Beato chi ’n te spera e chi t’aspecta!’ (IV. 20. 10-21)
In contrast to the confusion which accompanies the earthquake and the end of Statius’ purgation in Purgatorio, here Frezzi outlines very clearly what is happening to the souls. They can now end their purgatorial punishment and they ascend with the angels towards
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Paradise in bright light that protects them from the purgatorial flames. Following this, there is joyful song as the souls praise God, and this communal joy for souls entering Paradise is also seen in Dante’s Purgatorio when souls shout ‘“Glorïa in excelsis” tutti
“Deo”’ (Purg., XX. 136) following the end of Statius’s purgation. Frezzi claims to know the final soul to be saved:
E prete Bonzo ben conosceva io per peccatore; e però ammirai che Dio esaudisse un cosí rio. (IV. 20. 34-36)
Here he expresses surprise that a known sinner is still able to be saved and glorified by God in this way, demonstrating that, despite all the teaching on Purgatory that the protagonist has received in this realm, the extent of God’s grace is still shown to be beyond human understanding. The salvation of known sinners emulates the radical nature of the salvation of souls, such as Manfred, in Dante’s Purgatorio and emphasises that God’s grace extends to all those who repent. Dante’s conception of Purgatory as a hopeful realm for the saved is thus reiterated by the souls’ progression from the purgatorial sphere towards Paradise in the Quadriregio. ii. Joyful suffering Dante’s notion of a transformative and hopeful purgatorial realm is also displayed by the joyful suffering of the souls in Frezzi’s Purgatory. As we have seen, Frezzi locates Purgatory in the realm of Speranza, which is defined using Dantean language from
Paradiso XXV in the following passage:
Speranza è un attender fermo e certo delle cose celesti ed eternali, che vengon per buoni atti e per buon merto. (IV. 18. 70-72)80
The fact that Frezzi places his Purgatory within this realm suggests that it too represents these values. Indeed, the souls in Frezzi’s Purgatory embody hope, as they complete satisfaction for sins in the purgatorial fire whilst focusing on their future with God:
Io son che li conforto tra le pene, perché hanno speranza di venire, quando che sia, all’infinito Bene. Vero è che la lor doglia e ’l gran martire,
80 This passage demonstrates clear linguistic similarities with Dante pilgrim’s definition of hope in Paradiso XXV: ‘“Spene,” diss’ io, “è un attender certo | della gloria futura, il qual produce | grazia divina e precedente merto’ (Par., XXV. 67-69).
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per buone orazioni e per indolto di sante chiavi, si può sobvenire’ (IV. 18. 88-93)
The juxtaposition between ‘conforto’ and ‘pene’, evoking the contrast between ‘sollazzo’ and ‘pena’ (Purg., XXIII. 72) in Dante’s Purgatorio, similarly highlights that these souls are not simply undergoing infernal punishment. Purgation is instead here dominated by a ‘speranza’, focused entirely on reaching the ‘infinito Bene’, which allows the suffering to be undertaken joyfully. While the extremity of the pain is not diminished, as in the Commedia, the hope of a future union with the divine, alongside the prayers of the Pope, are presented as a means of ultimately overcoming any suffering. After having entered Purgatory, an ambiguous process where Frezzi appears to be pulled up by his hair, Frezzi finally sees the souls that he could hear earlier: 81
E fui nel purgatoro; e grande pièta d’anime vidi in quelle fiamme ardenti, che tra’ martíri avean sembianza lieta; ché, benché fusson tra li gran tormenti, la speranza addolcisce in lor la pena, ché speran ire alle beate genti. (IV. 19. 55-60)
Despite their ‘gran tormenti’ surrounded by ‘fiamme ardenti’, the souls ‘avean sembianza lieta’. Similarly, Dante likens the suffering of souls in Purgatorio to that of Christ on the cross, who is said to be ’lieto’ (Purg., XXIII. 74) when he dies. In both the Commedia and the Quadriregio, then, the souls endure pain joyfully because it will enable salvation, just like Christ’s sacrifice. As in Dante’s Purgatorio, the souls in Frezzi’s Purgatory express joy in their torment through song and prayer:
Io stava ad ascoltar, attento tutto, le lor parole e le piatose note, mostranti insieme l’allegrezza e ’l lutto. E parte ancor dell’anime divote a coro a cor dicien le letanie con pianto tal, che mi bagnò le gote.
81 This reference to Frezzi being pulled up by his hair, ‘Come Abacuc insù levato fue, | quando soccorse a Daniel profeta, | cosi allora io fui levato insue’ (IV. 19. 52-54), appears to have been inspired by one of the additional chapters of the book of Daniel, which forms part of the deuterocanonical books accepted by the Catholic Church. In the biblical passage, the prophet Habakkuk is transported to Daniel by an angel who carries him by his hair: ‘Now the prophet Habakkuk was in Judea; he had made a stew and had broken bread into a bowl, and was going into the field to take it to the reapers. But the angel of the Lord said to Habakkuk, “Take the food that you have to Babylon, to Daniel, in the lions’ den.” Habakkuk said, “Sir, I have never seen Babylon, and I know nothing about the den.” Then the angel of the Lord took him by the crown of his head and carried him by his hair; with the speed of the wind he set him down in Babylon, right over the den’. (Daniel 14. 33-36).
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Ed alcun gl’inni, alcun le psalmodie, o alcuni il Deprofundo e ’l Miserere dicíen con pianti e dolci melodie. (IV. 19. 72-81)
The juxtaposition between the souls’ current sorrow and their hope for future happiness is once again underlined here when Frezzi says that their words display both ‘l’allegrezza e
’l lutto’ (IV. 19. 74). It is this combination of immense suffering and joyful devotion that moves Frezzi to tears on several occasions.82 The punishment of these souls, however, is not described in any detail and does not seem to relate to the sin committed whilst on Earth, as in Purgatorio. Indeed, we only know that the souls experience the great heat of the flames that they are placed in. While fire is thus presented as a universal punishment for those in Purgatory, the lack of any specific punishment relating to the sins committed suggests that Frezzi attributes less importance to the individuality of each soul’s transformation in his Purgatory. The universality of the punishment in Frezzi’s Purgatory, alongside the lack of geographical specificity in the sphere and its location within a heavenly realm, therefore contributes to diminish the role of the realm itself in facilitating salvation. This lack of individuality regarding purgation is also seen in Palmieri’s Città di vita, which, by contrast, does not describe any form of punishment or purification through fire taking place in the purgatorial realm. Although Palmieri emphasises that the souls are transformed on his Mount of Virtues, ‘Piu su salendo si diriza ad quella | l anima intende
& quella la conduce | per farla sancta & piu felice & bella’ (III. 15. 17), it is not made clear how this change occurs. Palmieri does not describe the end of the souls’ purgation, nor the punishments they undergo, and so he does not portray the same joyful suffering experienced by penitent souls in the Commedia and the Quadriregio. Thus, while each of these authors attribute a positive, transformative function to the purgatorial realm, the nature of the punishment varies significantly, and it is only in Dante’s Purgatorio that the individual nature of purgatorial transformation is really emphasised and facilitated by the realm itself. iii. Punishment of the Seven Deadly Sins As we have seen, in the third book of his poem Frezzi utilises Dante’s geography of Mount Purgatory, which is structured according to the punishment of the Seven Deadly
82 See also Quadriregio, (IV. 20. 1-9), pp. 373-74.
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Sins. He also employs Dante’s notion of punishment corresponding to a specific sin, and yet the souls are not refined by this process like those in Purgatorio.83 Instead, the souls’ suffering mirrors the contrapasso used by Dante in Inferno, where the focus remains upon infernal punishment without the addition of exemplars to instruct the souls or encourage their positive transformation, as in Purgatorio.84 Frezzi thus combines the geography of Purgatorio with Dante’s infernal contrapasso in order to construct his Regno dei Vizi. In this mountain realm Frezzi sometimes uses the same punishment as Dante in Purgatorio, for example when dealing with the slothful, but as the suffering is situated within an infernal rather than a purgatorial context, the outcome is very different. The slothful souls in the Quadriregio are shown to move incredibly quickly, ‘costor van tutti ratto’ (III. 9. 106), as is also the case in Dante’s Purgatorio: ‘perché correndo | si movea tutta quella turba magna’ (Purg., XVIII. 97-98). However, while in Purgatorio the souls are said to be driven by ‘buon volere e giusto amor’ (Purg., XVIII. 96), in the Quadriregio they are instead spurred on by evil: ‘corron cogli appetiti inverso il male, | e quando vanno al ben, van pigri e tardi’ (III. 9. 113-14). These souls are slow to move towards the divine good which, conversely, motivates the slothful in Dante’s Purgatorio. Of the ‘due vie’ (III. 9. 119) they are presented with in the Quadriregio, the slothful reject the route to Paradise and instead take that which leads to eternal damnation: ‘benché fusse lotosa e pien di spine, | per quella quasi ognun ratto corría’ (III. 9. 146-47). Frezzi thus removes this Dantean punishment from its original purgatorial context and instead uses it to create his own scheme of otherworldly punishment. Frezzi does not always imitate the same punishments that Dante uses, however, as seen in his treatment of the sin of lust:
‘Ad ogni vizio, che ’n mal far è messo, sempre ogni impedimento è odioso, ma piú alla lussuria per eccesso; però che l’atto suo è furioso, e quanto piú il disio corre fervente,
83 For an in-depth examination of each of the Seven Deadly Sins, which also explores the influence of this tradition for the entire structure of the Commedia, see Dante and the Seven Deadly Sins: Twelve Literary and Historical Essays, ed. by John C. Barnes and Daragh O’Connell (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2017). 84 The souls in the Regno dei Vizi are punished as follows: the Prideful are punished by wind which expands their heads, lifting them up and then letting them fall to the ground; the Envious are punished by demons and dragons, who pull out their teeth, throw them on the ground and tear their bodies apart; the Avaricious flee Poverty and a dragon also attacks them. There is also a waterfall that they cannot drink from, and those who do simply increase their thirst; the Slothful run towards eternal death; the Angry are at war with one another, causing a river of blood to flow, and the Three Furies attack them; the Gluttons are transformed into painful, overly full stomachs and, while there is food and drink present, it moves away so the souls cannot reach it; finally, the Lustful are submerged in mud and shoot arrows at one another.
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tanto lo ’mpedimento è piú noioso.’ Poscia nel fango vidi una gran gente Coll’arco in mano e colle dur saette; e ferivansi insieme crudelmente. E, perché scudo mai niun si mette, né arme indosso, mai non tranno in fallo, quantunque volte l’un l’altro saette. (III. 15. 82-94)
In this passage, Frezzi outlines the reasoning behind his choice of punishment, stating that the greater the sinful desire, the greater the punishment must be. The particularly fast and furious nature of lust therefore requires a slow, tedious punishment to counteract its negative effects. In this case, the lustful are immersed ‘nel fango’ (III. 15. 88) and continuously shoot each other with arrows, reminiscent of the actions of Cupid in the Regno di Amore. The lustful are not protected against this onslaught, ‘perché scudo mai niun si mette, | né arme indosso’ (III. 15. 92-93), and consequently they never miss a shot. Just as these souls allowed lust to take over in their earthly lives, so here it dominates them as well. Whilst their desire is repeatedly renewed by arrow shots, the flame of desire is dampened by the mud. Although Frezzi’s severe treatment of lust can be seen to correspond directly to the sin itself, it is very different to the flames which burn the penitent lustful at the top of
Dante’s Mount Purgatory and the ‘bufera infernal’ (Inf., V. 31) which blows the lustful sinners around in Inferno. The suffering of the lustful instead evokes the punishment of the angry in Dante’s Inferno, ‘vidi genti fangose in quel pantano | ignude tutte, con sembiante offeso’ (Inf., VII. 110-11), thereby demonstrating how Frezzi decontextualizes Dantean imagery for his own conception of infernal punishment. Moreover, while Frezzi retains the topography of Purgatorio by placing the sin of lust at the top of the mountain, he does this because he views lust as one of the most offensive sins requiring the greatest punishment, in contrast to Dante who situates the gravest sins at the bottom of the mountain. This demonstrates how Frezzi combines elements of Dante’s infernal contrapasso with the geography of Purgatorio in order to create his own system of punishment for sin.
Transformation of the protagonist Rotondi has argued that whilst Dante undergoes a journey of spiritual conversion in the Commedia, Frezzi’s journey is simply one of instruction to satisfy his curiosity, with no
242 evidence of his spiritual development.85 I will argue, however, that the protagonist in the Quadriregio, like Dante pilgrim, does repent and demonstrate the successful redirection of his desire. Frezzi actively participates in elements of the Sacrament of Penance, which involves contrition, confession, and satisfaction, during his time in the Regno delle Virtù. As we have seen, Frezzi must humble himself in order to enter the Earthly Paradise where he lies prostrate at the feet of the angel guarding the entrance. Whereas this act of humility and repentance was only necessary once in the Commedia, when Dante pilgrim enters Purgatory proper, here Frezzi must perform this act of repentance every time he enters a new section of the Regno delle Virtù, showing its ongoing importance. As in Purgatorio, a physical act of humility is required alongside evidence of internal penitence. Frezzi’s confession, symbolised by tears, is underlined when he repents verbally:
e lacrimoso in terra mi distesi , dicendo: ‘O padre, priego mi perdoni, se mai io fui superbo e mai t’offesi’ (IV. 17. 127-29)
Dante pilgrim’s tears similarly prove his penitence and will ultimately allow him to progress into Paradise: ‘di pentimento che lagrime spanda’ (Purg., XXX. 145).86 Following his repentance, Frezzi is comforted by Speranza that, ‘Al cor contrito ed umiliato | la porta Dio della pietá mai serra’ (IV. 17. 136-37). Contrition, that is the recognition of sin which forms the first stage in the Sacrament of Penance, is thus linked to humility, which is shown to be the foundation for all subsequent virtues: ‘Io sono l’Umilta, il primo grado | d’ogni virtú, che vuol salir a Dio’ (IV. 3. 23-24).87 Souls must therefore be both repentant and humble in order to enter Paradise, characteristics that are shown to be directly relevant to the protagonist Frezzi who, according to Laureti, undertakes a ‘pentimento sincero’.88 While Dante pilgrim’s repentance is explicitly associated with and facilitated by his independent realm of Purgatory, however, Frezzi’s transformation is not confined to a purgatorial sphere. In the Quadriregio, passing through the realm of Purgatory itself is nevertheless shown to be essential for the protagonist to access salvation. The goddess Charity claims that Frezzi must enter the fire of Purgatory:
85 Rotondi, pp. 90-91. 86 See also Purg., XXX. 97-99, 142-45. For the different stages of the Sacrament of Penance undertaken by Dante pilgrim, see Purg., XXXI. 87 See also Quadriregio, (IV. 3. 28-30), p. 286. 88 Laureti, p. 448.
243
cosí scese ella e disse a me benegna: ‘Del purgatòr convien che ’l foco passi, anzi che enghi o e per me si regna’. (IV. 19. 34-36)
Passage through Purgatory is therefore a requirement for any penitent soul wishing to come into the presence of God in Paradise. Dante pilgrim must also enter a fire in order to continue his journey through the afterlife, although Dante’s fire does not encompass the entire realm of Purgatory and is instead only located on the terrace of lust: ‘Poscia “Più non si va, se pria non morde, | anime sante, il foco: intrate in esso’ (Purg., XXVII. 10-11). While Dante’s fire appears to be placed as a barrier between the final terrace of Purgatory and the Earthly Paradise, Frezzi’s fire is already located within the heavenly realms and allows him to enter the realm of Carità. In both cases, the fire appears to represent a cleansing process for the protagonist before they enter Paradise proper. For Dante this fiery baptism occurs much earlier in his afterlife journey than for Frezzi, who condenses his visit to the realm of Carità, the heavenly spheres and the vision of God into just two capitoli at the end of the fourth book. The notion of fiery cleansing is underlined by Frezzi, who walks ‘verso il ciel tra l’anime, che stanno | nel foco, come argento a farsi fino’ (IV. 20. 119-20), and this imagery of a fire that refines and purifies souls is also used by Dante: ‘foco che li affina’ (Purg., XXVI. 148). This suggests that, like Dante, Frezzi uses purgatorial fire as a means of transformation that allows him to progress through the afterlife. However, despite emphasising the importance of Purgatory for the salvation process, Frezzi appears to undertake most of his repentance before he even enters this sphere. As Frezzi’s transformation takes place throughout the Regno delle Virtù, repentance cannot be directly associated with a purgatorial location in the Quadriregio. Frezzi’s personal development can also be analysed in relation to his approach to earthly desire. Frezzi begins his journey in the Regno di Amore, where he is repeatedly hit by Cupid’s arrow and moves from one lustful encounter to the next, but his journey through the afterlife is ultimately a means of learning to reject this lust, which offers him no fulfilment. The theological purpose of Dante’s Purgatorio is also to redirect the souls’ desire away from the earthly and towards the divine, as shown by the fact that the souls on each terrace are punished according to the object and extent of their desire, and yet Dante’s earthly love Beatrice is still very present in the poem.89 As Tristan Kay has shown, Dante’s desire for Beatrice ‘becomes his source of elevation, his means of
89 On the integration of the erotic and the spiritual in the figure of Beatrice in both Purgatorio and Paradiso, see Kay, Dante’s Lyric Redemption, pp. 69-91.
244 transcending and not succumbing to lust’, and it is her name, an indication of her earthly individuality, that leads him forward and ultimately guides him out of the fire on the terrace of lust at the top of Mount Purgatory, ‘tra Bëatrice e te è questo muro’ (Purg.,
XXVII. 36).90 This demonstrates that although Beatrice is Dante’s earthly beloved, she also enables his salvation. By contrast, Frezzi’s past lovers from the Regno di Amore do not help him to progress through the flames of Purgatory and he instead relies purely on the protection of his guides, Speranza and Carità:
E, quando presso al cielo io giunto fui, sentii maggior l’incendio; e per riparo le scorte mie m’abbraccîaro amendui (IV. 20. 124-26)
Indeed, Frezzi sees Cupid on the terrace of lust in the Regno dei Vizi and his previous attraction to Cupid and the earthly love he represents is now shown to have been completely misguided:
Trovai adunque lui vaghetto e biondo, de cui beltá negli altri versi scrissi, che mai si bello fu, né sí giocondo. Ma ora veggio ben che ’l falso dissi; ch’egli è crudele e brutto e pien di tosco, chi ben rimira lui cogli occhi fissi (III. 14. 7-12)91
While Dante’s earthly love for Beatrice enables her to awaken his desire for God, here in the Quadriregio earthly love must be rejected unequivocally in favour of love for God alone.92 As we have seen in both the visionary tradition and Dante’s Commedia, Frezzi is also instructed to tell everyone about his otherworldly experience on his return to Earth: ‘al mondo narrerò ciò c’ho veduto’ (IV. 20. 156).93 This request gives him an opportunity to summarise what he now knows about love:
e che vertu in tanto è vertuosa, in quanto amor la ’nforma ed avvalora: non amor di Cupido o d’util cosa, ma quel, che ’l sommo Ben ferma per segno,
90 Kay, Dante’s Lyric Redemption, p. 74; and Moevs, pp. 94-100. 91 See also Quadriregio (III. 14. 1-3) and (III. 15. 52-66). 92 Kay, Dante’s Lyric Redemption, p. 79; Laureti, p. 25. 93 In the Commedia see, for example, Purg., XXII. 104-05, ‘e quel che vedi, | ritornato di là, fa che tu scrive’; and Par., XVII. 127-28, ‘Ma nondimen, rimossa ogne menzogna, | tutta tua visïon fa manifesta’. Meanwhile, in the Corbaccio the Narrator states that, ‘ogni cosa veduta e udita per ordine raccontai’ (409). For the visionary tradition, see St. Paul’s Apocalypse (fourth century), where the angel says “I will show you what you must describe and tell openly”, as well as the Vision of Wetti (ninth century) and the Vision of Thurkill (1206), amongst others.
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e fa l’anima a Dio fedele sposa, si ch’ogni amor, ch’è fuor di lui, ha a sdegno. (IV. 20. 158-63)
Here Frezzi shows that he has learnt to reject his initial ‘amor di Cupido’ (IV. 20. 160) in exchange for love for God. As opposed to the carnal love that the poem began with, now
Frezzi attributes greater importance to love for ‘’l sommo Ben’ (IV. 20. 161).94 This would seem to contradict Rotondi’s opinion that Frezzi does not undergo any spiritual development on his journey through the afterlife. Indeed, Frezzi’s rejection of earthly love continues to be seen when he ascends to the realm of Speranza where Purgatory is located:
l’apostol disse a me: ‘Or sei uscito fuor del terrestre mondo, e chi sú sale e di voltarsi addietro è poscia ardito, diventa marmo o statua di sale: però fa’ che non volti, ché tu forsi potresti divenir in tanto male.’ Per questo detto, mentre alla ’nsu corsi, dieci miglia salendo insino a cima, il viso mio addietro mai non torsi (IV. 17. 49-57)
St Paul instructs Frezzi not to turn back and look at the earthly realms because if he does, he will ‘diventa marmo o statua di sale’ (IV. 17. 52). This has biblical resonances with Genesis 19 when God destroyed Sodom but saved Lot and his family. As they were escaping, Lot’s wife looked back at the burning city and was turned into a pillar of salt as a result of her persisting desire for her former life.95 Frezzi, however, remains obedient and does not look back, ‘il viso mio addietro mai non torsi’ (IV. 17. 57), thereby demonstrating his rejection of his previous worldly desires. The necessity for the protagonist to keep his or her eyes fixed on the onward journey prepared for them by God is also underlined in Dante’s Purgatorio,‘“Intrate; ma facciovi accorti | che di fuor torna chi ’n dietro si guata”’ (Purg., IX. 131-32), and in Palmieri’s Città di Vita, ‘Mentre si purgha volge tutta al bene [...] | di cosa humana piu non puo pensare’ (III. 15. 37, 39). All three authors, then, emphasise the importance of redirecting desire, by focusing on a future heavenly destination rather than an earthly past, in the context of purgation. However, while Frezzi emulates certain aspects of Dante’s approach to desire in
94 This phrase is used to describe God several times in the Commedia, see Par., XIV. 46-47, ‘per che s’accrescerà ciò che ne dona | di gratüito lume il sommo bene’; and Par., XXVI. 134-35 ‘I s’appellava in terra il sommo bene | onde vien la letizia che mi fascia’. 95 ‘But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt’ (Genesis 19. 26).
246
Purgatorio, these doctrinal elements are not restricted to a purgatorial location. It is thus only Dante who redeems his love for his earthly beloved Beatrice, and who explicitly associates the reorientation of desire with the realm of Purgatory.
This analysis of transformation in the Quadriregio demonstrates that although Frezzi includes both the geography and theology of Dante’s Purgatory in his text, he does not bring these two aspects together for the same transformative purpose that defines Purgatorio as a realm. Frezzi’s use of punishment in the purgatorial sphere is quite different from Purgatorio, as the universal nature of the fiery punishment disregards the individuality of the purgation seen in Dante’s poem, but it is nevertheless undertaken joyfully by the souls. By emphasising the change afforded by purgatorial suffering and its ultimately finite nature, especially when describing the end of the souls’ purgation and the subsequent entry into Paradise, Dante and Frezzi both use punishment to emphasise the transitional nature of Purgatory. The similarities between the two texts can also be seen in the evolution of the protagonists, who are both shown to be repentant of their previous sins and their desire is thus redirected away from the earthly towards the divine. However, Dante associates repentance with Purgatory itself while continuing to redeem his love for Beatrice, whereas Frezzi’s conversion, which requires him to reject earthly love entirely, takes place beyond the confines of Purgatory.96 Although Frezzi was clearly influenced by theological elements of Dante’s Purgatorio, he does not associate them with a distinct geographical space for the realm and instead adapts them to create his own doctrine of the afterlife. Dante’s notion of hopeful purgatorial transformation is thus dislocated from its original context, stripped of its geographical specificity, and reinserted into the Quadriregio, shaping a heavenly realm of which Purgatory is only a part.
Conclusion There is thus evidence in the Quadriregio of the structural, thematic and linguistic influence of Dante’s Purgatorio. In contrast to the medieval visionary tradition, both the Quadriregio and Palmieri’s Città di vita portray Purgatory as a realm strongly oriented towards Heaven where the purpose of the souls’ suffering and their ultimate destination in Paradise is assured, as is seen in Dante. In their writings, Frezzi and Palmieri also employ
96 On the continuation of Dante’s earthly love for Beatrice in Paradiso, see Kay, Dante’s Lyric Redemption, pp. 80-90.
247 numerous topographical elements, such as the mountain, that are present in Purgatorio. However, neither text combines the geography of Dante’s Purgatorio with its transformative purpose and so the role of the realm itself in the salvation process is ultimately minimised in these examples. Rather than signifying that these texts simply offer a poor imitation of Dante, however, these differences serve to demonstrate a more nuanced engagement with Dante’s Commedia. Frezzi does not directly imitate Purgatorio, but instead fragments and rewrites Dante’s text. This ‘layered engagement’ allows Frezzi to separate Dantean elements from their original context and then recombine them in order to create his own conception of Purgatory. Thus, for Frezzi, Dante’s Purgatorio appears to act as a point of departure for his depiction of Purgatory and this significant Dantean influence also continues later in the fifteenth century in Palmieri’s Città di vita. As there is no extratextual evidence confirming Frezzi’s engagement with Dante’s Purgatorio, however, the comparisons I have made are to be understood as ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality. As we have seen, these ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality are also found in the frescoes and altarpieces examined in the previous two chapters. Like Frezzi, for example, the Paganico fresco and Giovanni di Paolo’s altarpiece both represent a separate realm for Purgatory that can be seen to facilitate progression to the divine, as is seen in Dante’s Purgatorio. However, neither artwork situates Purgatory on a mountain, instead portraying this realm as a fiery pit or cave. This demonstrates similarities with Frezzi’s sphere of purgatorial fire, which is likewise situated in a more ambiguous location than that described in Purgatorio. Meanwhile, artworks such as Maso di Banco’s fresco and Botticini’s altarpiece do include a mountain but its relation to Purgatory remains ambiguous in both depictions. Thus, like the Quadriregio, these artworks contain geographical and spiritual elements of Purgatorio, but they do not combine them and consequently Dante’s concept of Purgatory is not emulated in its entirety. This chapter thus demonstrates how selected examples of vernacular poetry have engaged implicitly with Dante’s representation of Purgatory during this period.97 However, while Dante was manifestly a significant model for these authors, a positive influence approach recognises that Dante may have been just one ‘incoming tributary’ out of many that contributed to the construction of a purgatorial realm in these texts.98 The
97 Baxandall, Patterns of Intention, p. 83. 98 Orr, pp. 84-85.
248 writings of Frezzi and Palmieri consequently merit a more careful consideration than merely as poor imitations of Dante and it would be interesting to examine more fully their relationship to other traditions, such as visionary literature for example. Whilst Le Goff has argued that, in the context of Purgatory’s representation, Dante’s poem was ‘the sublime product of a lengthy gestation’, I have shown that the ambiguities concerning the geography and theology of Purgatory continue well after the composition of the Commedia, not only in these literary examples, but also in the textual and visual commentaries, frescoes and altarpieces examined earlier in this thesis.99 My findings therefore challenge Le Goff’s claim that it was Dante’s conception of the realm that endured. Despite wide circulation, Dante’s Purgatorio therefore does not seem to establish the future shape of Purgatory in vernacular literature from the Italian peninsula. Instead, Purgatorio is perhaps best viewed within the wider context of the development of the doctrine of Purgatory, not as a transformative culmination of preceding traditions, but as one of several significant literary representations of the realm during this period.
99 Le Goff, p. 334.
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Conclusion
This thesis has analysed the role played by the legacy of Dante in the development of the doctrine of Purgatory in the Italian peninsula during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. It expands upon previous areas of critical interest, such as the origins of Purgatory and Dante’s relationship to theology in the Commedia, by exploring both the literary and visual reception of Dante’s Purgatorio, which have previously received little critical attention in this period. My work differs from approaches to the study of Purgatorio, such as those seen in the work of Eileen Gardiner and Jacques Le Goff, as it considers Dante’s second cantica as part of the evolution of the concept of Purgatory, rather than as a teleological endpoint. As a result of viewing Dante’s poem from this new perspective, my research demonstrates the complexities of the transmission of doctrinal ideas in this period, highlighting the collaborative production process for literary and artistic texts and the different ways in which concepts could be received and rewritten by subsequent writers and artists. My comparative and interdisciplinary approach also offers an insight into the intersections between literary, artistic and theological texts, which, when analysed together, provide a more detailed picture of the development of Purgatory over time. In my introduction, I demonstrated the limited and ambiguous definitions of Purgatory in Catholic doctrine during this period. Throughout the thesis, this lack of doctrinal stability led me to explore Le Goff’s claim that the portrayal of Purgatory was in fact ‘left to the sensibility and imagination of individual Christians’ such as Dante, who seemingly offered the first example of an orderly, independent realm for Purgatory with a hopeful spiritual purpose.1 In chapters one to four, I evaluated the influence of Dante’s Purgatorio upon the representation of Purgatory in different literary and artistic media from a variety of time periods and locations in the Italian peninsula. By claiming that Purgatorio is composed of ‘an enduring selection from among the possible and at times competing images’ of the realm, Le Goff suggests that it was Dante who finally established the shape of Purgatory.2 My analysis of the reception of both the geography and theology of Purgatorio suggests, however, that Dante’s conception of Purgatory does not dominate subsequent literary and visual depictions. These representations of
1 Le Goff, p. 334. 2 Le Goff, p. 334.
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Purgatory instead evidence significant diversity from Dante and each other, as well as continuous ambiguity surrounding the geographical and spiritual nature of this realm. The consistently ambiguous nature of Purgatory at a doctrinal level likely contributed to this variation in purgatorial representation. By the fourteenth century, the Church had confirmed that purgation could take place after death. However, there was still significant uncertainty surrounding the location and topography of Purgatory, as well as the type of punishment there, when it took place, and which sins it applied to. The lack of clear teaching from the Church on the subject of Purgatory meant that writers and artists had to look to other sources for inspiration and clarity. While we have seen suggestions of Dantean influence in the representations examined in this thesis, many different ‘tributaries’ of influence are apparent across both visual and literary texts, including the medieval visionary tradition, the writings of theologians and hagiography. Even commentators and miniaturists, who provide a direct literary or visual response to Purgatorio, also make use of contemporary literary and theological understandings of Purgatory. A positive influence approach recognises that artists and writers were drawing upon many sources alongside Dante in their reformulations of the afterlife, thereby challenging the idea that Dante permanently transformed conceptions of Purgatory. The lack of existing literary, visual and theological precedents for Purgatory does, however, serve to underline the unique nature of Dante’s purgatorial concepts. Since Purgatory was subject to vague theological definitions and hellish visionary representations before the composition of the Commedia, Dante’s idea of a hopeful, transformative realm of purgation is all the more striking. Given the unique nature of Dante’s topography and theology of Purgatory, it is likely that the presence of these unusual elements in later representations of the realm hints at the influence of Purgatorio. My research recognises that we cannot be certain whether specific aspects of texts are Dantean or if authors and artists intentionally choose to engage with Purgatorio. However, by using Raphael Lyne’s methodology, this thesis has found that Dante’s ideas can be seen to permeate subsequent representations to a certain extent, either through ‘explicit’ or ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality. The commentaries and manuscript miniatures in chapter one evidence knowledge of Dante by their very nature. However, although the creators of these texts are directly responding to Purgatorio, the precise intent behind their work and the extent of their knowledge of Dante is still uncertain in many cases. I have consequently viewed these texts as ‘explicit’ acts of intertextuality in this thesis. My study recognises that even these
251 explicit portrayals of Purgatorio draw on numerous influences and, through a ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s text, often appear to rewrite elements of it to suit their own purposes. Indeed, commentators and miniaturists sometimes attempt to normalise potentially problematic aspects of Dante’s Purgatory, such as the geography of the realm or the salvation of controversial figures like Cato and Manfred, or they simply ignore Dante’s innovations altogether. Rather than legitimising Dante’s ideas and thus allowing them to be reproduced in future portrayals of the realm, these efforts to normalise the realm instead appear to question Dante’s theological validity. This ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s text was part of the culture of representation at the time. We have seen that it was common for artists and writers in the medieval and early modern periods to reformulate existing models and familiar tropes, allowing for a certain level of creativity within the confines of existing traditions. This may help to explain why Dante’s Purgatorio is not imitated faithfully in certain manuscript miniatures which directly depict his realm. The Parma manuscript miniature, for example, does not emulate the physically distinct geography of Dante’s realm as it blurs the boundary between Hell and Purgatory in its depiction of fiery punishment. Thus, even in representations that one might expect to demonstrate ‘allusive neutrality’, as they explicitly portray Purgatorio, artists instead engage in fragmenting and rewriting Dante’s text to varying extents. Many of the texts discussed in chapters two to four, by contrast, are considered to be ‘implicit’ acts of intertextuality because although their engagement with Dante cannot be proven, they nevertheless hint at the inclusion of his ideas in their notions of the afterlife. In chapter two, for example, the frescoes by Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio and Biagio Di Goro Ghezzi both depict souls being released from Purgatory and proceeding to Paradise. Moreover, in chapter four we saw how Frezzi emphasises the transformative and salvific purpose of Purgatory, locating it within a heavenly realm in the Quadriregio. As opposed to the vague doctrinal definitions of the realm at this time, here these writers and artists appear to follow Dante’s purgatorial doctrine, portraying Purgatory as a hopeful realm of salvation that is associated more closely with Paradise than Hell. Even though aspects of Dante’s theology of Purgatory are emulated in these examples, the geographical layout of his realm is not. For instance, there is little evidence for a tertiary division of the afterlife, as is seen in the Commedia, in the frescoes and altarpieces analysed in chapters two and three. Where the inclusion of a purgatorial realm is suggested, it often remains nebulous and marginalised in comparison to the other
252 scenes or realms of the afterlife that are depicted. Like the manuscript miniaturists, later writers and artists also provide a ‘layered engagement’ with Purgatorio, often taking Dante’s purgatorial geography out of its original context and repurposing it in their own texts. The Quadriregio, for example, includes Dantean mountain imagery but does not link it to Purgatory, and Jacopo di Mino del Pellicciaio’s fresco incorporates a mountain but includes enclosed caverns with hellish punishments administered by demons. As the geography of Purgatorio is not combined with its transformative purpose in the works I have examined, the role of the realm itself in the salvation process is ultimately minimised. This demonstrates a nuanced engagement with Purgatorio, where writers and artists use Dante’s poem as a point of departure for their own varied representations of the realm. All of the examples we have examined in this thesis, therefore, appear to demonstrate a certain amount of ‘layered engagement’ with Dante’s Purgatorio. Whereas commentaries and manuscript miniatures often rewrite Dante’s text to normalise potentially unorthodox passages, the frescoes, altarpieces and literary examples in this thesis, like the Parma manuscript, often reformulate Purgatorio in order to create their own concept of the afterlife. While elements of Purgatorio can be identified in certain representations of Purgatory considered in this thesis, my research challenges the idea that it was ultimately Dante’s portrayal of this realm that endured and consequently shaped the doctrine. Despite the wide circulation and diverse audience of the Commedia, which remained the second most commonly owned book by Renaissance Florentines until the mid-sixteenth century, with commentaries written across the Italian peninsula, there is no clear and decisive shift in the representations of Purgatory that followed the composition of Purgatorio.3 Although Dante’s Purgatory is exceptionally detailed and imaginative, linking Purgatory to Paradise more closely than had been seen before, subsequent depictions of Purgatory remained quite nebulous. It may be that Dante’s text was so comprehensive and widely read that it did not need to be reproduced, or readers were reluctant to try. The fact that Dante’s Purgatorio does not have a tangible influence is nevertheless surprising, especially given the extensive transmission of the Commedia, and these findings consequently demonstrate that a text will not necessarily be reproduced just because it is successful. Writers and artists in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries instead engaged with Dante’s poem to a varying extent, whether through ‘explicit’ or ‘implicit’ acts of
3 Barański, ‘Early Reception (1290-1481)’, p. 522; Bec, p. 34, p. 62.
253 intertextuality, and ultimately produced their own depictions of this realm, informed by an array of textual and iconographic traditions. My findings help to question the way in which scholarship has previously analysed canonical authors such as Dante. Critics have often viewed Dante as an exceptional syncretist, focusing on the Commedia and its sources rather than Dante’s subsequent reception. This approach has led to the neglect of numerous lesser known writers and artists from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. When Dante’s reception has been taken into account, it is often coloured by the assumed superiority of the Commedia in relation to subsequent works. Although my thesis uses Dante’s Purgatorio to examine the representation of Purgatory more broadly, it rejects hierarchical approaches that privilege the ‘source text’, instead recognising that later texts engage with many diverse influences. By analysing Purgatorio as part of the developing representation of Purgatory across a variety of different media, my research aims to shift the focus away from the study of canonical authors in Italian Studies. My thesis instead sheds light on the work of those, such as Federico Frezzi, who have been largely ignored, thereby demonstrating that it can be beneficial for Dantists to move away from a teleological interpretation of the Commedia. This thesis points to the fact that there are literary, visual and theological portrayals of Purgatory from the Italian peninsula in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries that remain to be investigated. For instance, whilst I have considered the ways in which Purgatory was defined at a doctrinal level, there is also scope to consider how it was taught by preachers themselves after the composition of the Commedia. The analysis of preaching manuscripts and medieval exempla used in sermons, for example, would illuminate the ways in which the laity were encouraged to perceive the realm of Purgatory.4 There are also examples of biblical exegesis and theological treatises on Purgatory, such as the Treatise on Purgatory by Catherine of Genoa (1447-1510), which hint that Dante’s Purgatorio did have a lasting impact. Moreover, there are possibilities to explore the
4 Other potential sources for examination could include homily manuals used by priests, chronicles written by clerics, psalters, breviaries, books of hours, graduals, penitential literature focusing on vice and virtue, lists of indulgences, and confession manuals. For work on exempla, preaching and religious tales concerning Purgatory, see for example Michael P. Carrol, Veiled Threats: The Logic of Popular Catholicism in Italy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996); Ian D. K. Siggins, A Harvest of Medieval Preaching: The Sermon Books of Johann Herolt, OP (Disciplus) (Bloomington: Xlibris, 2009); Anne T. Thayer, Penitence, Preaching and the Coming of the Reformation (London: Ashgate, 2002); Frederick C. Tubach, Index exemplorum: A Handbook of Medieval Religious Tales (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1969); and Gabriella Zarri, ‘Purgatorio ‘particolare’ e ritorno dei morti tra Riforma e Controriforma: l’area italiana’, Quaderni Storici, 17 (1982), 466-97.
254 presence of Purgatory in literary works such as Giovanni Boccaccio’s Corbaccio (1354- 55 or 1365-66). Even though scholars have previously focused on the infernal nature of the landscape in this work, Boccaccio’s geography of the afterlife is perhaps not so easily defined.5 This thesis generates several other possible avenues for further research, encouraging scholars to question further how far Dante’s poem constitutes a turning point for later representations and conceptualizations of the realm of Purgatory. Such research could invite a comparison with the development of Purgatory in other political and linguistic territories. It also opens up the possibility for a comparison between early and modern notions of Purgatory, questioning whether the impact of Dante’s Purgatorio is more or less evident now when compared to its early reception. Moreover, this thesis could lead scholars to consider the ways in which art and literature may have influenced the reception of other potentially controversial aspects of Church doctrine at this time, such as the use of indulgences or prayer for the dead, for example. Thus, as well as creating numerous opportunities for future research, this thesis has employed an innovative methodology which has allowed it to compare literary, artistic and theological texts that have been rarely studied, especially in relation to Dante’s Purgatorio. Rather than viewing Purgatorio as a pinnacle of preceding traditions that went on to transform the portrayal of Purgatory, this analysis has instead suggested that Dante’s poem may be better understood as an anomaly in the context of Purgatory’s developing representation. Aspects of Purgatorio influence many of the literary and visual depictions we have examined, if only indirectly in some cases, but ultimately Dante’s realm does not seem to alter definitively medieval and early modern interpretations of Purgatory. This study has therefore made an important contribution to our understanding of the reception of Dante’s Purgatorio and the development of the doctrine of Purgatory in this period, as well as demonstrating significant interconnections between literature, art and theology in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries.
5 For an interpretation of the landscape of the Corbaccio as infernal, see Guyda Armstrong, ‘Boccaccio and the Infernal Body: The Widow as Wilderness’, in Boccaccio and Feminist Criticism, ed. by Thomas C. Stillinger and F. Regina Psaki (Chapel Hill, NC: Annali d’italianistica, 2006), pp. 83-104 (p. 103); and Robert Hollander, Boccaccio’s Last Fiction ‘Il Corbaccio’ (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988), p. 16.
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Bibliography
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Commento alla Divina commedia d’Anonimo Fiorentino del secolo XIV, ed. by Pietro Fanfani (Bologna, G. Romagnoli, 1866-74)
Da Buti, Francesco, Commento di Francesco da Buti sopra la Divina commedia di Dante Allighieri, ed. by Crescentino Giannini (Pisa: Fratelli Nistri, 1858-62),
Daniello, Bernardino, Dante con l'espositione di M. Bernard[in]o Daniello da Lucca sopra la sua Comedia dell’Inferno, del Purgatorio, & del Paradiso.... (Venice: Pietro da Fino, 1568),
Della Lana, Jacopo, Comedia di Dante degli Allaghieri col commento di Jacopo della Lana bolognese, ed. by Luciano Scarabelli (Bologna: Tipografia Regia, 1866-67),
Gabriele, Trifon, Annotationi nel Dante fatte con M. Trifon Gabriele in Bassano, ed. by Lino Pertile (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1993)
Gelli, Giovan Battista, Commento edito e inedito sopra la Divina commedia, ed. by Carlo Negroni (Florence: Bocca, 1887),
Landino, Cristoforo, Comedia del divino poeta Dante Alighieri, con la dotta e leggiadra spositione di Christophoro Landino (Florence: Nicholo di Lorenzo della Magna, 1481),
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Vellutello, Alessandro, Inf. and Purg. 1-10, Dante con l’esposizione di Cristoforo Landino et d’Alessandro Vellutello sopra la sua Comedia dell’Inferno, del Purgatorio & del Paradiso con tavole, argomenti, & allegorie (Venice: Gio. Battista & Gio. Bernardo Sessa, 1596). Purg. 11-33 and Para. (Venice: F. Marcolini, 1544),
Manuscript Miniatures
Baltimore, The Walters Art Museum, Walters MS. W.782, fol. 200r (‘Initial M with two souls kneeling in prayer in Purgatory’, Van Alphen Hours, mid- fifteenth century)
Besançon, Bibliothèque municipale, MS. 0069, p. 826
Budapest, Biblioteca Universitaria di Budapest, Codex Italicus 1
Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze, MS. Pal. 313 (Dante Poggiali)
Gubbio, Archivio di Stato, MS. C/X, fol. 104v (‘Celebration of Mass and Liberation of Souls from Purgatory’, Gradual from S. Domenico, first quarter of fourteenth century, Sanctoral, All Souls, Requiem Mass)
Heidelberg, University Library Heidelberg, MS. Pal. Germ. 144, fol. 338r
London, British Library, MS Egerton 943
London, British Library, Yates Thompson 36
New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, MS M. 756, fol. 132r
New York, The Morgan Library & Museum, MSS M.917, p. 180 – M.945, fol. 97r (‘Souls Tormented in Purgatory’, Hours of Catherine of Cleves, Illuminated by the Master of Catherine of Cleves, Utrecht, The Netherlands, c. 1440)
New York, The Morgan Library and Museum, MS M.945, fols 106v–107r (‘Souls Released from Purgatory’, Hours of Catherine of Cleves, Illuminated by the Master of Catherine of Cleves, The Netherlands, Utrecht, c. 1440)
257
New York, The Morgan Library and Museum, MS M.677 fol. 250v (Book of Hours, Bourges, c. 1473)
New York, The Morgan Library and Museum, MS H.5 fol. 6r
Oxford, Bodleian library, MS Holkham misc. 48
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, MS. Lat. 1023, fol. 474 (‘Maitre Honoré and Workshop, Celebration of Mass and Liberation of Souls from Purgatory’, Breviary of Philip the Fair, c. 1290-95, Sanctoral, All Souls, Office of the Dead, Matins, First Nocturn, Job 7: 16-21)
Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, fr. 1544, 7. fol. 105r,
Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Français 244, fol. 104v (‘Nicholas and St Patrick’s Purgatory’, Legenda aurea, c. 1480-1490)
Parma, Biblioteca Palatina di Parma, MS. Parmense 3285
Frescoes
Di Banco, Maso, c. 1330s, fresco, Bardi di Vernio Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence* 1
Di Francesco, Cenni, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, 1390s, fresco, Chiesa di San Lorenzo, Vicchio di Rimaggio (Florence)*
Di Goro Ghezzi, Biagio, Allegoria dell’oltretomba, 1368, fresco, Chiesa di S. Michele Arcangelo, Paganico*
Di Michelino, Domenico, La commedia illumina Firenze, 1456, fresco, Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence*
Di Mino del Pellicciaio, Jacopo, c. 1346-1349, fresco, Chiesa di San Francesco al Borgo Nuovo, Todi
Di Tommaso, Bartolomeo, Purgatory, c. 1445-50, fresco, Cappella Paradisi, San Francesco, Terni*
1 Primary sources marked with * are those I have viewed in person.
258
Giudizio universale, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena*
Madonna del Purgatorio, second half of fourteenth century, fresco, Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Servi, Siena*
Signorelli, Luca, c. 1499-1504, fresco, Cappella Nuova, Orvieto*
Altarpieces
Botticini, Francesco, The Assumption of the Virgin, 1475-76, tempera on wood, 228.6 × 377.2cm, National Gallery, London*
Bulgarini, Bartolomeo, Madonna Assunta in cielo da un coro di Angeli, fourteenth century, panel painting, 205 × 112cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena*
Di Francesco, Cenni, Polyptych with Coronation of the Virgin and Saints, c. 1390s, tempera and gold leaf on panel, 355.6 × 239.1 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles,
Di Niccolò, Lorenzo, Saint Lawrence Liberating Souls from Purgatory, c. 1390s, tempera and tooled gold on poplar panel, 33.8 × 67.6 cm, Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York
Di Paolo, Giovanni, Cristo paziente e Cristo trionfante, c. 1420s- 1430s, tempera on wood, 116 × 103 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena*
Di Paolo, Giovanni, La Pala di Staggia, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, 199 × 210 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena*
Di Pietro, Sano, Assunzione della Vergine, fifteenth century, tempera on panel, 71.7 × 53 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena*
Di Pietro, Sano, Polittico dell’Assunta, 1479, tempera on panel, 242 × 268 cm, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena*
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